Five
by preciselypotter
Summary: -"Nymphadora," Remus said, rolling the word around in his mouth, testing it out. "It's a very pretty name." -"I'm not a pretty name sort of girl." -"What sort of girl are you, then?" …Warning: here there be time travel.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: Legal rights all belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Inc., and Warner Bros. No financial compensation was given to me for writing this story. No animals were harmed in the making of this story. Please keep your hands and feet inside the cart at all times. If your baggage is stolen please report it to Airport Security. Thank you and have a nice day!

**Five**

Prologue

Remus felt the ground shake beneath his feet, and then it split, and he fell through a chasm of earth and time. He reached for something that could stay his landing a little longer but there was only emptiness around him.

Still he flailed, hoping to grasp a ledge or a handhold of some sort, because he was far too young to die. There was so much he had to do-he was only twenty, and already he was doomed to die in a magical duel. His hands touched a vacuum with no air, and he was alone in a darkness so thick it stole the breath from his lungs.

If only he could find something...but there was nothing. Only nothingness.

Finally, reluctantly, Remus accepted his fate.

There was nothing left for him to do.

After realizing this, a peaceful clarity of mind came over him. It was soothing, somehow, and he thought over everything his life had contained until this moment. He wouldn't say his life flashed before his eyes, but rather he searched his memories, looking for assurance that he'd at least done something worthy with the twenty years he'd been given.

He considered his parents.

Hope and Lyall Lupin were good people, even with the fear that permeated through his childhood. Each month as the full moon approached the lines on their faces drew deeper and he learned to fear himself. But they'd loved him, and he could be grateful for that, even though he wished he'd been the son they wanted. He'd have liked to be good enough for them.

Remus thought next of his friends-especially the three that had stuck so close to him he'd lost sight of where he ended and they began. The Marauders, a secret name they passed amongst each other with secret names and secret traditions. And the greatest secret of all, their gift to him: four years and seven months ago (fifty five full moons ago) when the three of them became Animagi and never let him transform alone again.

There was Lily, the girl he'd fancied in fourth year, the one James had married. She'd given birth to a baby boy this last summer and the new family had gone into hiding, and he regretted not saying goodbye to them. He'd have liked to see little Harry grow up into the kind of man his parents could be proud of.

Mary MacDonald, the plucky sidekick to Lily's fiesty self in school. Kingsley Shacklebolt, or Shack as he'd gone by, the prefect he'd made friends with during corridor checks in Hogwarts. Shack was an Auror-in-training now... Then there was Forrest Hancock, his contemplative flatmate. Benjy Fenwick, his partner in the Order of the Phoenix. His apologies to Benjy for leaving him alone in this battle.

Oh...and Dorcas Meadowes. That was right. The intrepid Order member and Auror he'd nearly dated before chickening out. She was lovely and smart and he should have gone for it. Perhaps he'd have fallen in love with her in time, if he wasn't so afraid.

That was certainly his regret. For every person he'd let into his life, Remus had pushed three more away. Especially when it came to letting himself be happy. James always said the right girl wouldn't care if Remus was a werewolf or not but he'd never, ever listened, not really. If he had, if he'd taken the chance before falling through this nothingness, would he regret ending things this way more or less?

In all other things, Remus thought contentedly (at least, as content as a free-falling, dying man could be), he had done a fair job at life. He'd joined up for a noble cause, he'd had some of the best friends he could have hoped for, and…he hadn't killed anyone as a werewolf.

Well, as far as regrets went, it was a small matter. If there was someone out there who could love him, she-or he, possibly-would find someone else far more worthy than Remus Lupin.

It was alright.

Then, quite suddenly, he wasn't falling anymore. Remus was on his back, and the sun shone in his eyes.

He threw up a hand to block the brightness and glanced around.

Strange...he was in exactly the spot he'd been in before when the chasm had opened. More specifically, he was right in front of Zonko's Joke Shop in Hogsmeade, the store windows shining happily in the sunlight. But they weren't shining before he fell.

In fact, Hogsmeade was a completely different place. For one, there were no scores of Death Eaters and Aurors (with Order members mixed in), fighting furiously in the snow-covered streets and destroying everything sacred in the little town. The sky was early morning blue, not overcast with dark magic. The windows weren't boarded up and out of business, they were proudly displaying merchandise. He hadn't seen Hogsmeade like this in...well, he never had. The war had started before he'd ever visited the town as a third year.

Remus got to his feet, brushing dust from his tattered and bloody robes. He looked one way and the other. He glanced all around him, wand firmly in hand as it had been all that long fall. There were no people about but the air was welcoming and warm. Remus, his cuts from the duel still bleeding and his ribs crying out, did not belong here.

"Breathe," he instructed himself firmly. "Focus, Lupin."

Slowly, much slower than he'd like, his mind sorted through all the things he should do.

First, and foremost, he should find Dumbledore. Unless he was in a parallel world (and even then, he suspected nothing could shake Dumbledore), the old and powerful wizard would elect to remain at Hogwarts, defending the students and the world's future as he always did. Whatever was going on, Albus Dumbledore would solve it.

The path was familiar, and Remus set off towards the castle with a single-minded determination.

* * *

_7/9/14 -minor revisions to the story! Since I'm planning to release the third chapter in October, I want the writing style here to match the growth I've achieved in the past four years. Chapters one and two will also go through revisions.  
_

_Many thanks to everyone who's kept up an interest in "Five" despite the long wait! Your enthusiasm has maintained my interest in this behemoth of a project.  
_


	2. Chapter 1: The Metamorphmagus

**Five**

Chapter 1  
The Metamorphmagus

_No man can know where he is going unless he knows exactly where he has been and  
__exactly how he arrived at his present place. - Maya Angelou_

It was nine o'clock of the morning. Remus didn't know why that was so important, but it was. At least he knew the time, though he knew nothing else - or maybe he was wrong, and it wasn't springtime like he'd assumed so readily.

But no, it had to be spring. The air was just right, with that charming mix of crispness and lazy warmth. Along the winding path to the school he saw many muddy patches, but no patches of snow. That was good. After seeing so much snow turned red and brown by way of blood and mud, Remus was quite sure he never wanted to live through another winter. Snowball fights and snowmen (snow-women, Sirius sometimes made, and with alarmingly accurate anatomy) were no longer a part of his idealism.

The world smelled different. His years as a werewolf had inevitably heightened his senses, and Remus could smell the lack of blood, but it ran deeper than that. There was happiness here, and goodness, and fear was a thing you felt when a friend jumped out from behind a bush. Fear was not a constant companion.

He could grow to love here, if here was a civilized place. He didn't think he could bear it if the sunny exterior belied a twisted underbelly. If it did, then he would lose all his carefully preserved hope for humanity.

Remus slowed at the gates, and then stopped altogether when he was a good five feet away.

Hogwarts security was comprised of immeasurable magic; he couldn't just stroll onto the grounds as he pleased.

Or could he?

This was not the world of terror he'd come from, and there was no need (he presumed) to have such a tight lock on the students. Nevertheless, he wanted to be sure. Walking into a shield was surely foolish. He raised his wand and inched forward cautiously. The air rippled with power, and he sighed.

Closing his eyes, Remus thought back to the moment in fifth year when his friends, mischievous and excited grins lighting their faces, had shown him the extent of their friendship when they'd sat him down and before his eyes revealed themselves as Animagi. Prongs, the stag; Padfoot, the dog; Wormtail, the rat; all before him with human eyes even while they wore fur and hide on their backs, their devotion to helping _him_, to protecting _him…_

The tip of his wand glowed, and then a looming polar bear made of pure light exploded forth and ran in the air towards Dumbledore's office. Remus spared a hope yet again that the old Professor remained faithful to his post.

In twenty minutes, Remus was rewarded for his patience when he saw in the distance a person step from the open doors and head down to the gates.

From this distance, the person looked merely a stick figure against the grassy grounds, and Remus wondered idly who would come to greet him. Did he know this figure, or did Hogwarts host and entirely different set of staff? What if he was in a world where everyone was different?

The person drew closer - a woman. Finally, he recognized his greeter.

"Minerva," he said warmly.

It had only been a year since he'd grown any sort of comfortable with referring to the strict professor by her given name. Sirius had taken to calling Professor McGonagall "Minnie" at the start of fourth year, so his transition was somewhat smoother.

Minerva stopped in her tracks, looking Remus up and down with an air of shock. He couldn't blame her, as he was doing the same thing. She was a formidable woman still, but there were lines on her face that had not been there just before (in Remus' personal timeline, anyway), and her hands were decorated in veins.

"Remus?" It was not a greeting.

"Yes," he said, tentative. "I… ran into some misfortune, and I believe Dumbledore might help me."

"Whatever your misfortune was, I would gladly relieve you of it," the professor said as she opened the barriers. "You don't look a day over twenty, despite your injuries."

Remus pocketed his wand. "As it so happens, I'm not a day over twenty," he revealed. "That's the misfortune. Or part of it, anyway."

Minerva looked startled, but mercifully said nothing. As in his world, she would leave the great matters to Albus Dumbledore, and manage the things she could. Remus was grateful for the silence, and the companionship of a mostly familiar face. He was glad that in this world Minerva McGonagall was not fighting for her life and the lives of Hogwarts students in the middle of Hogsmeade, but instead walking him up to the castle.

The Entrance Hall of Hogwarts was silent and imposing, the way it always was during classes. Remus looked around greedily, drinking in the light pouring from the open doors and the simple pleasure of the coat of arms, hanging proudly upon the wall before them.

She led him past classrooms full of students, the smallest first years working on a Charm and the harried seventh years studying for their N.E.W.T.s frantically. He caught glimpses of them in the windows, but none of them glanced at him.

All was as it should be, so far. Except for Remus.

The stone gargoyles were a reassuring sight, mixed with the trained response of anxiety. He couldn't count the number of times the Marauders were brought before Dumbledore for some act of trickery, and as a rule-abiding student by nature (if not by practice) Remus was always contrite upon walking up the steps. The first few times, he feared the Headmaster would expel him and his werewolf hide.

"Licorice wands," Minerva said with some discomfort.

The gargoyles moved aside, and Minerva gestured for him to go first. He wasn't one to argue with his former Head of House.

Dumbledore looked up as they stepped into his office, and his expression was bemused as he scanned Remus top to bottom. The scan made Remus aware of how filthy and cut up he was, and how clean the office was by comparison. He shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"You're not our Remus Lupin, are you," the headmaster said. He didn't phrase it as a question.

Remus nodded emphatically. "Something happened, where I'm from. I was in the middle of a battle in Hogsmeade, and two Death Eaters shot a spell at me. I put up a shield but a curse flew through it on my side, and there was this crack in the earth, and I …fell. And I ended up here."

The headmaster rose. "When was this battle? The date?"

"March 22nd," he recited dully. "1980."

He watched as Dumbledore exchanged a look with Minerva, and he frowned unhappily. If this world's Dumbledore didn't know what to do with him, if he didn't know what happened, then all his chances of returning to his own world were slim. He didn't want to return, per se, but there were obligations he had to fulfill, promises and oaths to keep…

"The date is April 17th, 1990," the Headmaster said quietly.

"What? No, it can't -"

"I'm afraid you've fallen through time."

"Impossible. Really, Headmaster, I've studied time manipulation time and again and there's no way -"

"Magic," Dumbledore interrupted gently, "Is an unpredictable element. There's no way to tell how it will work." He paused, deep in thought, and then spoke again. "I remember that fight. I remember the exact same cuts on your face. And I remember you disappeared for a time. I believe that you _are_ our Remus, just not our present Remus."

Remus spent a few long minutes working through this in his head. This was his future? A world with joy and peace and…

"Voldemort? Is he gone?"

"For now, yes."

"What do you mean, for now?" he wasn't thrilled with the idea that Lord Voldemort, the cause of all the horror in his life - _in the past_, he corrected determinedly - could possibly return and ruin this present. In fact, Remus wanted nothing more than to destroy any chance of that happening again.

Dumbledore sighed. "Tom has, for lack of a better term, immortalized himself."

Remus waited on a further explanation, but none came. He turned to Minerva, who shared his frustrated look. Clearly, the Headmaster was keeping secrets, and while his faith in the old man was unshakeable Remus felt shortchanged at the vague answer.

Then again, knowing his future, this present… his study of time manipulation always stated the dangers of altering the flow of knowledge. There were two theories on time; the first that all things are meant to happen and time is a circular pattern where everything falls into place. The second claimed the opposite - an upset in the flow of time could alter time itself, and Remus thought it prudent to be cautious. After all, he'd never heard of anyone falling through time before.

It was something that might happen to James and Lily, or maybe Sirius, but he'd never thought of himself as one of those chosen people who experience the unexplainable. This was not his destiny. This was a fluke. He said as much to the Headmaster.

"Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "What truly interests me, Remus, is why you arrived _here_, in this year, on this day. Were there any prevalent thoughts while you were in the chasm, as you put it? Anything that you were focused on particularly?"

"None that I'd like to share," he muttered.

And he didn't. He was terribly embarrassed by his desire to find love, of all things. Of course, he'd thought it when he was prepared for imminent death, not time travel.

"I understand, but keep whatever thought you had in mind. It might provide some answers." Dumbledore turned to Minerva. "Would you mind playing the part of doting aunt until we can find a way to send Remus back to his appropriate time?"

"Not at all," Minerva said, and gave Remus a small smile. "I take it you'll be adopting my last name, then?"

"If that's what Dumbledore believes is best," he consented.

The Headmaster nodded. "Very well. We'll set you up in a spare office dorm - I'll send a house elf by - and I'll hold an emergency staff meeting for anyone who knows you. Severus might present a problem, but the others -"

"Severus?" Remus was on his feet before he realized he'd stood. "Severus Snape? The Death Eater?"

"Remus, I cannot explain to you what has happened in the last ten years -"

"He knows I'm a werewolf!" he said, and his voice was too loud for the room. "He knows my secret!"

Dumbledore put one hand to Remus' shoulder and pushed him down to his seat once more.

"Severus will not reveal your secret," the Headmaster said calmly. "He is sworn to me, and I trust him. And as for your transformations, the Shrieking Shack, as it's now named, is still available for your use. Perhaps I can ask Severus to brew Wolfsbane Potion for you; it is a new potion that eases the pain of the full moon."

Of all the things Remus had heard this day, including the fall of Voldemort and the peace he'd witnessed, this was the most glorious news he could have received. A potion to pacify the horrible, bone-shattering, aching _pain_ he experienced every month - it was truly a brighter future.

Dumbledore leaned forward and held his wand before Remus' face.

He felt a stinging pain, and then three more, and then he touched his skin to find himself unblemished. That is to say, unblemished from the battle. The scars from his youth still resided. But he truly didn't mind them, so cheerful was he at the news of a potion to help him.

"I suggest you get a new set of robes to wear, lest you frighten the students," Minerva said, before clapping her hands.

A house-elf appeared with a _crack_ and bowed low.

Minerva instructed the elf to show Remus to his new rooms, and sent him on his way before he had time to ask how they planned to send him back to his time.

**-  
5  
-**

He had showered away the mud and filth, he had dressed in a spare set of robes much nicer than his own, he had lain on the bed for a few minutes to absorb everything.

Now, Remus wished to be outside again.

Surely, it was past lunchtime. The staff meeting had most likely been called, and to everyone that didn't know his face, he was now Remus McGonagall, the visiting nephew of Minerva. There was nothing to fear, except perhaps from Snape. No harm could come from a stay on the grounds.

So he rose from the soft four poster, stretching languidly for the first time in years. He gave the sunlight a few seconds' gaze before heading out of the office dorm, a small book in hand to read as he sat under the tree that for so long was his, his and the Marauder's. Nostalgia swept over him, but it was the good kind that he welcomed. If Remus were to be stuck here for a long amount of time, he would have to look up his friends (and himself) to see what the future held.

But for now, it was the sunshine and the peace that called to him, not his friends. He would look for them later.

Like before, the corridors were deserted, and he enjoyed that, although in thought Remus wondered if the isolation would become lonely after a while. He would dine alone for a while, he decided, but making an appearance or two while the students were around couldn't be so terrible.

He made a beeline for his tree and sat beneath it, resting his back against the trunk in a familiar way.

In perhaps the longest time, he was truly content. Not about-to-die content, the true kind, where everything feels just as it should.

The book was held in his hand, but it was forgotten as Remus turned his face up to the sun and absorbed every ounce he could. His eyes were closed in the simple pleasure of feeling light. Again he reaffirmed this was his future, and rejoiced. How much ten years could do.

Idly, he wondered what exactly would happen when he returned to his time. Would he age while he was here and become older than his friends? Would he return to a time that corresponded directly with his aging here?

If nothing else (and there was so much else), this time-travel experience was an interesting study. He could take a few notes while he solved this puzzle, perhaps present his experience to the Department of Mysteries. The Ministry was unwilling to allow a werewolf in their midst, but if he offered information they could get nowhere else, he might have an in. Not only would it serve the order, but he and Forrest might be able to afford better lodgings.

Remus knew it was only a dream, though. The Ministry did not want his kind, and judging from the whole he could not blame them.

Nevertheless, he wished there was opportunity for him.

Perhaps in this time werewolves weren't so despised by the general public. He released a deprecating snort at that hope. Many things had changed that he could see, but nothing so extreme as public opinion of dark creatures. If anything, the Wolfsbane Potion was created to subdue the danger instead of assist the man.

He had lived with prejudice and contempt all his remembered life. Remus had faith in mankind, truly, but in this he had no faith at all.

The sun moved, as it inevitably did, slowly and surely across the sky. Wind breathed lightly on his forehead and closed lids, and the grass greeted his senses. He didn't keep track of the time, but an hour had certainly gone by when he heard the laughter of teenagers.

Remus opened one eye warily, watching the group as they tramped out the front doors and onto the grounds, one in the middle with startlingly pink hair.

"Come on, Tonks, let's have a look," one boy said. The six (he counted) drew nearer, though not so near as to notice him.

The pink haired girl laughed, and the sound was beautiful. He hadn't heard a real laugh in weeks, months even.

"You wish," the girl called Tonks said.

"Stop holding out on us," another girl pleaded.

"I'm not showing you lot a thing until Charlie gets down here," Tonks said stubbornly.

"Ooh, you and Weasley?" the first boy said. He had shaggy brown hair and was of an average height. "Are you shagging him, then?"

Remus watched in amusement as the pink haired Tonks put the boy into a headlock, and beat playfully on his skull with her fist. The group was laughing as the boy gave a shout of indignation, and various catcalls and jests were thrown at the pair.

Finally, Tonks released him. "Not shagging anyone, Caden Hart, and you'd best remember that," she warned. Then she grinned playfully. "Least, I'm not shagging anyone _yet_."

The group had another laugh at that.

It was such a relief to see teenagers had not changed, Remus noted. They thought of nothing but sex and fun and rebellion, and that was how the world should be. He tore his gaze from the six and finally opened his book.

As books went it was a little thing, but such a nice collection of child tales that he couldn't resist. It was innocence and that was the spirit Remus was in. To be innocent in such a time, when the biggest worry for a student was exams… truly it was a gift.

Growing up, Remus was not read many bedtime stories. His mother had feared he might take offense to the constant victory over dark creatures and wished to shield him from such things. Sometimes he suspected she was the one who took offense. Mrs Mary Lupin had always feared her son, at least since the bite. He'd never been wounded by the talk of dark creatures, not understanding at first that _he_ was a dark creature himself.

In fact his mother was the one who had led Remus to believe he was a monster. He didn't blame her; she was, after all, like everyone else. Without her constant concern over his nature, Remus might have grown up like every other boy. He didn't.

These were simple reflections. He'd long ago healed those grievances and moved on to the rest of his life with only scars remaining.

The rest of his life was filled with a contradiction of war and terror with friendship and laughter. Maybe it was the contradiction that made both elements so strong. Without the war and the constant death, Remus might not have been a part of the Marauders and he definitely wouldn't have searched for life's simple pleasures.

What a thought to have - that the war may have heightened the joy of his childhood instead of decimating it. He would have to pocket that idea for a rainy day, whether the rain be physical or metaphorical.

Remus had nearly finished the book when he heard a throat clear above him. He glanced up and shielded his eyes from the sun.

It was the pink haired girl, the one they called Tonks, and she looked down at him with very little reserve.

"Can I help you?" he asked mildly.

"Are you an Auror?" she said, all bluntness and curiosity.

"Should I be?"

Tonks shrugged. "You're all scarred up like an Auror, the same way Mad-Eye is, and I was just hoping that you were because it'd give me an excuse to talk to you."

He rather liked her style of approach, tactless though it might be.

"What's your name?"

"Tonks."

Remus suppressed a laugh. "Is that like Merlin, or Cassandra? Just the one name?"

For the first time since she'd come over, Tonks exhibited a blush. He couldn't hold the laugh in any longer, and heard a hearty chuckle come from his lips. The sound was almost alien, and he welcomed it happily. He even let the laugh go on a few seconds longer than it wanted to, just to hear the sound of it.

And then the blush vanished, as if it had never been. Remus looked at her curiously for a second, but let his interest drop.

"So, what's your full name, Tonks?"

"I'd rather not say," she muttered.

From fifty paces away, the boy with shaggy hair, Caden Hart, hollered, "Nymphadora, tell him your name!" They all guffawed at what was apparently a familiar joke. How they'd heard the muted conversation from such a distance, Remus could only imagine.

"Nymphadora," Remus said, rolling the word around in his mouth, testing it out. "It's a very pretty name."

"I'm not a pretty name sort of girl," Tonks informed him.

"What sort of girl are you, then?" he asked.

"The sort that talks to strangers because her friends dare her to, and on her birthday no less," she said. "I'm officially of age today and all they can do is mock me. But I figure if I'm the first to meet you, then I've got some bragging rights."

Remus nodded, working to keep his face straight. "Happy birthday then, Nymphadora Tonks," he said. He found he delighted in saying her name. He extended a hand. "I'm Remus McGonagall. Your professor's nephew."

They shook. She caught sight of his book.

"_The Tales of Beedle the Bard_? Are you putting me on?"

He waved the book in lazy circles. "I'm exploring my inner child today," he explained dryly. "It's really quite cathartic."

"Mm-hmm."

"You don't believe in exploring an inner child?"

Tonks shrugged. "I let mine out so often, I don't bother exploring it."

He laughed again, a full and surprised laugh that reached every part of him.

"I'm not an Auror," Remus finally answered. "I've friends that work as Aurors, though. At least, they did the last I saw of them." His mind wandered to the location and occupations of his friends again, and he wondered if Shack had ever actually graduated the Academy, or what James and Lily's children looked like. Lily was five months along in his time, and the thought stole his mind for a moment.

When he returned to the pink haired girl, he found she was staring at him expectantly.

"Sorry?" he said.

"I asked, how'd you get so scarred up if you're not an Auror?"

"A bit personal, don't you think?"

"They keep telling me to work on boundary issues, but I've never taken the time," Tonks informed him.

Remus let a smile slip through his discomfort. "I'm afraid I don't know you well enough to answer," he replied.

She nodded. "That's fair. There's things I wouldn't tell you right off, either."

Privately, he considered how much he knew about her virginal state already, and suppressed a snort at her expense. It wouldn't be kind to reveal he'd heard the playful banter between the group of friends and acquainted himself with her that way. Sirius or James might do such a thing, but it wasn't Remus' modus operandi.

"I'd imagine your friends are anxious to spend more of your birthday mocking you," Remus said.

"They've had all week," she revealed.

He didn't know why that was so sweet, but it was. "Then I don't feel guilty for stealing your time."

The blush returned to her cheeks. "I'm the one stealing your time, aren't I," she said shamefacedly.

In response, Remus waved his book again.

"I dearly hope I'm not so callous as to prefer a book of children's tales over conversation with a lovely young woman. That would make me either stupid or extremely disturbed, and I'd really rather be neither." He turned thoughtful for a second. "Unless I'm both. That would be something, wouldn't it?"

"You're a bit strange," Tonks noted.

"More than a bit," he disagreed.

"What do you do, if you're not an Auror?"

Remus pondered for a second. He knew what Remus Lupin did (work for the Order of the Phoenix, slave away at a parchment manufacturing facility, help Forrest with his rotten luck), but as to Remus McGonagall, he didn't yet know.

Finally, he said, "I travel."

"Where?"

"All over."

"Why?"

"I've restless feet."

"What's that like?"

"Inexplicable."

Tonks shuffled impatiently.

"I'll let you get back to your friends, and your birthday," Remus said, and there was a hard suggestion in his tone that she couldn't ignore.

"Right. Well, see you around, Remus."

"I'm glad to have met you, Nymphadora."

"Tonks, mate. It's Tonks." She smiled at him before sauntering away.

Remus watched her walk off, and shook his head in utter amusement when he realized she was attempting a sway to her hips that she clearly hadn't practiced before. This was hardly the first time a woman, or in this case a girl, attempted to give him a tantalizing view upon exiting. What he hadn't realized was that a newly seventeen-year-old girl would find him worth the risk of stumbling and falling, rather ungracefully, on her behind.

And when she did, Remus quickly looked back into his book to keep mortification from overwhelming her.

**-  
5  
-**

Dumbledore came to the office dorm the next morning, a stack of books held aloft by his wand.

"These are all the books Madam Pince could find in the library concerning time and magic," the Headmaster said. "I've put a call in to the Ministry's Department of Mysteries, but whether they'll owl me back or not is questionable."

"A mystery," Remus agreed, grinning.

"Exactly. You seem to be in good spirits."

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked. "The sun is shining, the war is over, the next full moon isn't for another three weeks… I truly can't complain."

He'd slept wonderfully, for once on an actual bed. He and Forrest made do with what they had, but with Remus' werewolf curse and Forrest's unfortunate run-in with some leprechauns a few years back, there wasn't much more than a moldy cot to each of them.

Dumbledore nodded with a smile, but it was a sad smile. "It is good to see you so happy, Remus. Your present self is less so."

"Well, I'll just have to be cheerful for the both of us," he said determinedly.

The Headmaster watched him intently, and Remus shifted under the stare.

"What?"

"I was wondering," the old man said, "Whether or not you'd learned why you arrived here and now."

"Haven't the foggiest," Remus admitted, "But if I can figure out how to get back, then it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Does it?" Dumbledore echoed softly. His gaze turned inward, and Remus watched the thoughts ripple across the old man's face, too fast to follow and too deep to fathom. It was clear that he knew something, and that something would not be shared with Remus. At least, not today.

Remus grabbed the books and set them on the desk. He rather liked having an office at Hogwarts, and said so. He and the Headmaster exchanged a few more pleasantries before the old man left, and Remus sat to open the first text.

_Time and Radical Manipulation_.

He'd read this tome before. Nevertheless, it couldn't hurt to look over the material again, possibly with fresh eyes. Remus flipped to the index and scanned for time travel; he found it and turned to page 294. To his immense surprise, there was something written at the top of the page. He leaned in closer, reading the spidery letters, and discovered it was his penmanship on the paper.

The words written were these: _Five,_ and then _solstices and equinoxes_, and then finally, simply, _D._

Why he'd written something so cryptic was beyond him. Remus considered for a moment whether he'd written these things in the past of now or his own personal future. The paradox interested him in ways he'd never considered. Had he written these things because he'd seen them? If so, that would prove the theory of circular time. And if the theory of circular time was correct, then Remus was in no danger of altering the world.

In essence, he could do what he wanted, without consequence.

Remus felt a little lightheaded at the prospect.

He could find James and Lily and visit with them. He could see if Sirius had finally settled down with one bird, and whether or not Peter had grown a beard (as he'd been insisting he would in Remus' time). He'd check to see if Forrest's bad luck had finally run its course.

List upon list built in his mind, things for him to do and see and discover, and all of it - hypothetically - was at his fingertips.

But no, he needed to find a way to return home.

Except…

What was the rush? At worst, the Order of 1980 would be bereft a member for several days. Could Remus be faulted for wishing to spend some time here, in peace? Maybe that was the reason he came forward, as Dumbledore claimed there was a reason.

Remus didn't believe he had one specific purpose for arriving in the year 1990. He'd never been a big believer in fate, after all. Fate was for people who couldn't take accountability for their actions and the actions of others around them. Say fate had a hand in something, and all that work and design on human shoulders was given to an undeserving cosmos. No, he doubted Dumbledore's theory, follower though he was of the man.

He sighed and pushed aside the question of consequences for the context of the words in his handwriting.

_Five_… five what? Five days, months, years? Five o'clock? The fifth of the month? Or was five part of a potion?

He needed to approach this problem as if he were thinking as himself, instead of someone else. This was, after all, Remus' own logic and it shouldn't be so much of a mystery. So he leaned back in the chair and contemplated the number five.

Time passed.

Remus mulled the word over and over, contemplating every possible meaning it could have. He considered the sound of five, even, so desperate was he to _understand_ his thoughts of the future. But nothing came to him, not a flash of thought or comprehension.

At the sound of his stomach growling angrily, Remus put away his musings and stood. When he checked the time, he found to his surprise it was past noon.

His body was stiff and sore, and scolded him for staying in the same position for so long. Silently he apologized to his stomach and limbs, and stretched his arms before heading down to the kitchens to grab a bite of lunch.

However, he'd only made it halfway down before a classroom door opened and the head of a rather short person peered out.

"Is that you, Mr Lupin?" Flitwick asked, his voice nearly as shocked as his face.

"Yes, it is," Remus said. "Only, it's McGonagall for now."

"Yes, yes, of course," the tiny Charms professor muttered. "Would you like to come in for a spot of lunch?"

He frowned. "In here?"

Flitwick stuck out a hand and waved it at him impatiently, gesturing for Remus to come in. He would have politely declined his old professor out of worry he was inconveniencing the tiny man, but after his stomach let out a particularly emphatic grumble Remus decided to hell with worrying and stepped into the empty classroom.

"I'm glad to see you, Mr Lupin, despite the rather…" here Flitwick fumbled for a word.

"Unorthodox situation?" he suggested.

"Exactly, exactly. You've not been by the school since -" the professor's face went cloudy. "Well, I won't bother you with it."

Remus wondered what was so drastic (or so horrible) that had Flitwick choosing not to speak. The Filius Flitwick that Remus was familiar with rarely kept away from sharing gossip, and on the occasion he didn't the reason was due to lack of time. For the first time since arriving in 1990, Remus felt a true knot of worry grow in the pit of his stomach.

Flitwick seemed to be considering something, but in the end he disregarded it.

"Let's go to my office then," the tiny professor suggested.

They made their way past the rows of desks to the room beyond.

Remus paused for a moment and glanced at the desk he'd shared with Peter for five years, and then with Emmeline Vance for the last two. He remembered Sirius and James always sat behind him, making jokes and laughing and always passing him notes he didn't want to read. James was especially relentless as he bombarded Remus with questions about Lily Evans, suggesting Remus make a date with Emmeline, and wondering whether or not turning all the Hufflepuffs into one-legged dwarves was considered racist.

He'd never made a date with Emmeline, but the questions about Lily he'd answered, and had decided that transforming the Hufflepuffs in such a way _was_, in fact, quite specist. But in the end that didn't stop the prank from going forward to much amusement from the other houses.

Every corner of Hogwarts held memories for Remus. He had yet to decide if this was a good thing or a bad.

A house-elf waited in Flitwick's office, ready to take an order.

"Well?" the professor asked. "What do you fancy for lunch?"

It had been so long since Remus was asked this question (indeed, so long since he'd been offered anything better to eat than day-old food) that it took a few seconds for him to process the words. The house-elf and professor waited impatiently as he came to his senses.

"Could do with a bit of shepherd's pie," Remus said, naming the first food that came to mind.

"The same for me," Flitwick said, and the house-elf Disapparated out of the office.

Remus took a seat across from the special chair that Flitwick used. It was a clever invention; four steps on the left side allowed the professor to gain height without the need to levitate, and a platform ran under the seat where his feet would otherwise dangle.

The chair was rather more ingenious than what the professor had always used while Remus was in school, most commonly a precarious pile of books. Then again, if Flitwick kept the chair in his classroom, half of his free time would consist of reversing a poorly aimed spell gone awry.

Flitwick took his seat. "Have you made any progress as to why you arrived here?" he inquired.

"I'm really not sure," Remus answered honestly.

He wanted to share his find of the writing in _Time and Radical Manipulation_, and he also didn't. Remus would eventually, he couldn't keep it to himself, but at the same time the less people knew about this mystery the better.

The house-elf returned with two others with the shepherd's pie. They took a break from conversation to eat.

"So," Flitwick said after wiping his mouth, "How do you like this time?"

"I don't want to leave," he admitted.

"Yes… 1980 was a difficult year," the professor agreed sadly. "I almost don't want you to return either, but if you don't we may not have a Remus Lupin for this time."

"Do you ever come across time manipulation in Charms?" Remus asked, struck by a sudden thought.

Flitwick looked surprised. "But of course," he said. "It's the field with the most exposure to time manipulation. _Petrificus Totalus_, for example, stops a body's internal time. The spell that allows time-turners to run has roots in the reversal spell of _Petrificus Totalus_, at least as far as we know. The Unspeakables aren't too verbose on the subject."

Remus laughed politely at the old joke. "Are you experienced in the subject, then?"

"No more than you, I'm afraid," the professor said. "And I know your studies of time manipulation are rather extensive, but truth be told, there simply isn't that much available information on these sort of things. After all, the Ministry believes time manipulation to be a high security risk."

This was interesting. "Security risk?" he asked, leaning forward.

Flitwick crooked one side of his mouth. "Consider this: a dark wizard, any dark wizard, finds a means to travel back or forth in time. Let's say he goes back. Since neither circular nor linear theories of time have been proven or disproven, it is very possible that this hypothetical wizard could alter the past in a fashion that would serve him. Perhaps he kills off the line of his most vocal opposition, thereby changing the fabric of the entire world by something known as the butterfly effect.

"And for perspective's sake, maybe this dark wizard goes forward in time. He gathers information of important future events and brings the knowledge back to suit his own purpose. If this wizard is never wrong about the future, he could gather a large number of followers. He could also change events in his own timeline to alter the future to his design, such as changing the outcome of duel between him and the wizard who was to best him.

"As long as the two theories continue to divide the study of time, this will always be a threat," Flitwick concluded. "The Department of Mysteries cannot decide one way or the other, and the Ministry in turn chooses to be cautious of what material can reach the public."

"Protection censorship," Remus mused.

The professor nodded. "In essence, yes. The flow of information can only include so much without great risk to the world."

"And you, professor?" he asked.

Flitwick blinked. "And I what, Mr Lupin?"

Remus leaned forward even further, by only an inch. "What do you believe? Circular or linear?"

"I?" Flitwick looked lost in thought.

He respected the professor's opinion, especially with the wealth of knowledge Flitwick apparently had. Remus himself leant towards the linear theory until this very morning, and even now he was still hesitant to side with one or the other. Flitwick's word could have the power to push him in one set direction.

Finally, the small man spoke. "I believe that prophecy is the greatest indicator of time's function."

Remus furrowed his brow. "You mean the subject of Divination has the answers?" he said doubtfully.

"No, prophecy," Flitwick corrected. "Divination is predictions based on outside forces such as runes or crystal balls or entrails. Prophecy is an entirely different matter."

"I don't understand."

"Have you ever heard a prophecy?"

"Can't say I have," Remus told him, and leaned back in his chair to get comfortable.

The Charms professor sighed. "When a prophet decrees something will happen, it will happen. There is no questioning this. But in every prophecy there is room to deviate. Many times a prophecy outlines circumstances and not the outcome, or a circumstance can be changed because a prophet has said the word 'if' or 'might.'"

"So, in essence, there's no way to be sure," he said darkly. "You don't know."

"I know enough to know I shouldn't make any definitive statements," Flitwick replied.

Remus nodded, disappointed.

"If you have any more ideas or questions, I would be honored to discuss them with you," said the professor, and Remus knew it was time to leave.

He stood and, after bidding goodbye to Flitwick, made his way back to the spare office - _his_ office. Remus was lost in thought, considering everything he and the professor had discussed. What he needed to do, he decided, was find a book on prophecy. Not of prophecy, but discussing the theory behind it. Maybe then he would understand what swayed Flitwick to using prophecy as his point of comparison.

His attention wandered so that he barely noticed the bell ringing throughout the castle, but the flood of students was hard to ignore. Remus was nearly run down by a pair of small redheaded twins, running past him with identical mischievous grins. He saw a ratty old piece of parchment gripped tightly in one of the boy's hands.

**-  
5  
-**

After a week of pouring over books of prophecy, Remus had to say he understood even less about time than he'd thought.

Flitwick was right in his assessment - the more you know, the less you know. As an avid scholar of time manipulation, he found this particularly frustrating. Remus could scarcely believe that his initial reaction to prove of time travel was excitement. Now all he felt was bewildered and annoyed. And the worst of it all was how he couldn't tear his mind away from the warring theories instead of focusing on returning to his own time.

All his meals had been taken in the office, but in the afternoons he'd spent some time with the tomes under his tree, enjoying the sunlight. Unlike the first time he came out, Remus had yet to see another student on the grounds.

They were all aware of him; the girl Tonks had spread word he was Minerva's nephew and Remus was spotted in the corridors at least once a day.

He found himself hoping to see Nymphadora Tonks from time to time. After months and months of darkness and subterfuge, speaking with a blunt and entertaining seventeen year old was like a breath of fresh air. Remus had caught himself chuckling once or twice in a replay of their conversation.

However, neither Tonks nor her friends had made an appearance outside the castle.

It wasn't until a rainy day that he saw her again.

Remus had glanced out the window in the morning to see thick gray clouds blocking the sun. Although he knew the weather well enough to predict rain, he'd sorely hoped himself in error. By noon, though, fat raindrops had begun beating on the windowpanes.

He lunched on sandwiches, not in the mood for much else, and then opened yet another book on theories of time. This one bore the title _The Chronos Debate_, and while he doubted anything useful - let alone new - would come from reading this text, it was certain to drive him even battier.

But what else could he do?

The answer came by way of a loud _thump_ outside the office.

Remus' heart gave a leap of adrenaline. He was ready for a fight at any moment, drilled into him by years of war and constant fear. Grabbing his wand, he walked to the office door and pushed the door wide just as a loud female voice proclaimed, "Fucking hell!"

As far as bizarre scenarios went, this one stood proudly above the throng.

A redheaded boy with thick muscles was bent over double, clutching his stomach and laughing so hard the sound didn't have room to come out. On the floor, clutching her shin and staring at him in mortification, lay Tonks.

Her hair was a long wave of mousy brown hair today, falling into her eyes and tangling at the ends. Remus liked this look on her, although he couldn't understand how her hair had grown out so fast and rid itself of the pink.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, putting his wand away.

Tonks grimaced. "Besides the searing pain, sure."

Remus walked over and held out a hand. She took it and pulled herself to her feet with a groan. Her hands were callused and strong, he noted with approval. Most likely she played Chaser or Keeper on her House team. Then it occurred to him that he didn't even know her House.

He turned to the recovering redhead. "What were you two doing in here?"

"Looking for an empty classroom," the boy said, wiping his eyes.

"It's not funny, Charlie!" snapped Tonks.

"An empty classroom?" Remus enquired. So this was the infamous Charlie Weasley, the boy Tonks wasn't shagging yet. He wondered if they'd moved past that conjunction.

"I'm a bit stuck on human transfiguration," explained Charlie. "Dora here knows everything there is to know about it, so we were going to practice somewhere out of the way. That is, until she forgot that desks were in the room and walked straight into one."

He bit back a smile. "So I heard."

"Did we bother you?" Tonks asked in a worried tone.

"Hardly. I could use the distraction. Remus… McGonagall," he said, nearly slipping up before extending a hand to Charlie.

The boy shook it with a strong, nearly bone-breaking grip.

"Charlie Weasley," Charlie returned. "So you're the bloke I've heard so much about."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware there was much to be heard."

"Charlie," Tonks said warningly.

"Well, this one here -" Charlie got cut off momentarily by Tonks' hand over his mouth, "Nearly talked my ear off about you the other day. She said -" here he avoided a headlock, "That you were a -" hand over mouth again, "Catch and a charming sort of bloke."

"You swot!"

"I'm just telling him how it is."

"Charlie!"

"What?"

"Chaaarrliieee!"

"_What?_"

"You're mean," Tonks said.

Charlie put on a wounded face. "I'm being honest!"

"You're being cruel!"

"How?"

"You just are."

Remus watched the whole thing with amusement, silently likening the pair to James and Sirius. Of course, the dynamic was slightly altered, since one of the duo was female, but that playful attachment was just the same.

He tried to disregard, though, Charlie's implications. Dealing with the impossible task of returning to his own time was more than he could handle already. A schoolgirl's fancy was simply too much. He'd experienced only one girl's interest while he was at Hogwarts himself; he wasn't sure what to do in these sorts of situations.

"Perhaps," he interrupted the bickering pair, "You could be of assistance to me."

As though they'd forgotten his very presence, both Charlie and Tonks started in surprise and swung their heads to look at him.

"Whenever you're leaving," Remus amended. "I've some books here that need to find their way back to the library."

"Sure," Tonks said automatically. Charlie elbowed her in the ribs. "Ouch!"

"Would you like some chocolate?" he offered.

Minerva had, in a fit of unusually wicked humor, presented him with a large box of Honeydukes chocolate bars the day before. Remus had already eaten two and thought it was high time to rid himself some of the temptation. If Remus had one vice (and he surely had more than one), it was his love of chocolate.

Charlie stared, but Tonks nodded and followed him back into the office.

"I like what you've done with your hair," he commented finally. "Was it a potion?"

"No," she said, and played awkwardly with the waist-length locks.

"A spell then? It's good spellwork, if that's what you used," said Remus. He opened the desk drawer where his stash was kept.

He wasn't entirely sure why it mattered. He kept thinking about their first meeting, and the blush that had vanished right off her face. Did Tonks have a particularly keen grasp of spells, perhaps? Why did he care so much about such a trivial thing as her hair?

"No spells," Tonks answered with some reluctance. "I'm a Metamorphmagus."

Remus stared.

She fidgeted. "What?"

"That's rather impressive," he managed to say through his surprise and delight. "Why are you so ashamed of it?"

"I'm not ashamed, I just…" Tonks heaved a sigh. "After I tell people, or they see me change, that's oftentimes all they see about me. I'm special, I'm rare, I'm blah, blah, blah - except that's just what I am, and no one cares for who I am when they find out. So I thought I wouldn't tell you."

This girl, though she received the opposite reaction of Remus, spelled out his feelings on being a werewolf entirely. It was the same - whomever knew he was a werewolf only saw the beast that came out three nights a month and not as the human he usually was. He felt a connection to Tonks, an understanding of who she was and what she struggled with, because he'd struggled (was still struggling) with the same things.

Remus chose his words carefully. "Isn't it part of who you are as well?"

She looked confused.

"If you weren't a Metamorphmagus, would you be the same person that you are today?" he elaborated. "In some way or another it has shaped your personality. I can't imagine you'd be the outspoken girl, after all."

"I… I hadn't ever thought of it like that," Tonks said in a small voice. "But I don't know if you're right."

"I'm not saying that's all there is to you," said Remus hastily. "When I look at you I see a smart, competent, brave witch with a few extra abilities. What I mean is, maybe stop fighting what you are and learn to be happy with it."

She had no words for this.

"Would I be right in assuming you know so much about human transfiguration because of your …ability?" he wasn't sure what to call it.

"I s'pose," she mumbled.

"Then it's not all bad, is it? What flavor?"

Tonks blinked. "Sorry?"

"Of chocolate. What flavor?" Remus shook the box in front of her.

"Oh…"

While Tonks picked out a bar of chocolate with a distinctly bemused expression, Remus sorted through what books he needed and which ones should return to Madam Pince. Most of the books on prophecy had to go, and some of the time manipulation ones as well, but he kept _Time and Radical Manipulation_ where it lay. Though the contents of the text were useless, his scribbled entry still posed a mystery. Several mysteries, to be exact.

Tonks cleared her throat.

He glanced up. "Found one?"

"Yeah." She held up a peach-and-strawberry flavored bar.

"I never have the fruit ones," Remus confessed. "Never liked them."

"Really? They're my favorite," she replied with a grin.

"No, I've always liked the caramel best, or just chocolate on its own."

"That's rather plain of you."

He laughed. "I'm very particular about my chocolate. Minerva - Aunt Minerva - knows this about me. She thinks it funny."

Tonks shrugged, a smile still stretching her face. Remus liked her smile. "It is funny. I've never met a bloke who cared so much about his choice of chocolates. You aren't a queen, are you?" She asked this with decidedly less humor.

"What do you think?"

She blushed and turned to leave.

"One for Charlie?" he offered.

"Charlie doesn't eat chocolates," Tonks said, looking back at him. "I'll come back once we've finished up to grab your books."

"Tonks," Remus called after her impulsively.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad to have seen you again."

She bit her lip. "I'm glad, too."

**-  
5  
-**

The thick spring rain continued over the next two weeks, and Remus' days developed a new rhythm, one that he both enjoyed and dreaded.

He'd wake up and look out the window to check the weather. Then he'd head down to the kitchens and grab a spot of breakfast before returning to the office and either contemplated the meaning of his future words or looked over theories on time. He'd lunch in the classroom and stare out the window, willing the rain to cease.

After lunch, Tonks would knock on the door to his office. Remus let her in and would offer her a chocolate bar. After the first time this happened (which had taken him by surprise), he put all the fruit selections towards the front in the hopes that she'd come back. While they each ate their chocolate, they would talk about Tonks' life.

Remus learned she was a Hufflepuff, and she played Chaser on her House team though she was considering quitting the team for seventh year so she could focus on becoming an Auror. She'd met with Alastor Moody on several occasions and he was sponsoring her for the Auror Academy. Tonks wanted to be an Auror ever since she was little, though she wouldn't tell him why, and had already applied for the Academy.

She liked the sun as much as Remus did, and thought the Weird Sisters was the greatest band in the world. Tonks changed her hair daily because she wasn't allowed to change her total appearance for the professor's convenience, and got bored with the consistency. The mousy brown color was her own.

Often Remus would ask questions, but for the most part he just sat back and listened to her.

It surprised him how interested he was in every small detail of her life. Tonks had a way of speaking that made every subject she addressed seem fascinating and important. More than that, she was funny and smart, and he found himself relating to her as he'd never done to anyone in his life.

When the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, she would leap up from her chair and knock it over before dashing out of the room. He'd right the overturned furniture and get back to his books, wishing she could have stayed a little longer. On the weekends, she would stay until her chocolate bar was all finished, and then remember she had some homework to write up and left a bit less hassled. Remus didn't like it when she left.

This worried him.

More bothersome was the lack of desire to find any useful information. Spending time with Nymphadora Tonks made him feel young and happy, a sensation he'd all but lost after Sirius had tricked Snape into heading down the tunnel under the Whomping Willow in sixth year.

Snape himself factored into Remus' daily routine.

Every day of the second week, shortly after Tonks went to class, Snape came by with a goblet of the Wolfsbane Potion and watched Remus drink it avidly.

When he'd first sampled the potion, Remus had nearly accused the man of poisoning him. Then he checked himself and remembered Dumbledore vouched for him. If he had no faith in Dumbledore, then he might as well surrender any and all chances he had of returning to 1980.

There was something different about Severus Snape that Remus only picked up on after the third day of this.

Snape's eyes were dead.

He'd been a dark person in Remus' time, but there was anger and exaltation to be found in Snape's coal black eyes. Now there was nothing.

After Remus drained the disgusting potion, the Potions Master took the goblet back and left as quietly as he came. This was for the better, because any conversation between them would only end in confrontation. He knew the man only as a Death Eater and a former schoolmate James and Sirius tormented on a regular basis, and as a keeper of his secret. He didn't care to learn anything more of Snape.

After more research and dinner, Remus would spend an hour or so with a professor he'd known from his Hogwarts days. He'd been back to see Flitwick, visited with Minerva, and also stopped by Pomona Sprout's office. Once he saw Dumbledore in his office.

On the seventh day he visited Madam Pomfrey and Minerva both before dinner.

"I need a favor," he said to Minerva, who was grading papers.

"Do you, now?"

Remus sighed and took the seat opposite her. "I need you to tell Nymphadora Tonks I'm visiting friends for a few days, and not to come by my office to see me."

Minerva stopped what she was doing. "You're seeing a student?"

"Not as in…" he paused and considered what to say. "I give her the fruit-flavored chocolate bars from the box you gave me, and we talk. There's nothing more than that." Although Tonks was of age, so it wasn't up to the professors anyway. If he was seeing her, they had no say in it.

He didn't know where that thought came from.

"And she's come by everyday?" Minerva asked carefully.

"Is that a problem?" he returned.

"No, but Remus, what will happen once you leave? If you've made friends, they might try to keep track of you," the professor said.

He shrugged, a habit he'd picked up from Tonks. "I don't see how anyone could find me. Remus McGonagall doesn't exist."

Minerva pursed her lips. "Very well. I'll pass that along."

"Thank you. And," he hesitated, "Thank you for lying for me so often. Not just now, but while I was in school. It's a lot to ask of a person."

"You were always a good student, Remus," she said. "Despite the antics of your …friends. I enjoyed teaching you, and I was proud to work with you in the Order of the Phoenix. Lying to protect you isn't asking much at all."

He was truly moved by her words.

"Now get along," Minerva added gruffly.

Remus stood and left the office, heading down to the Entrance Hall and then out the doors into the rain, walking hurriedly to the Whomping Willow.

He worked quickly, levitating a branch to jab the knot and freeze the violent tree. In the familiar motions of his youth, Remus climbed down the hole and into the Shrieking Shack.

**-  
5  
-**

"You look tired," Dumbledore said.

Remus _was_ tired. His joints ached and his head pounded, and his throat was raw. But for the first full moon in more years than he could count, there were no fresh scars on his face or body, and despite all the pain he was strangely satisfied.

"The transformation was still painful," he admitted, "But I kept my mind."

"You expected something else?"

"I wasn't sure what to expect," said Remus.

"Is it an improvement?"

"Anything's an improvement," he said firmly. "The change isn't something I'd wish on anyone. I only wish there was a cure instead of an aid."

Dumbledore looked very said at this. "I wish there was a cure, as well, to spare you the pain that endure each month."

Remus nodded his thanks. He didn't want to speak more than he truly had to, so as not to upset his throat.

"Have you found anything?" the Headmaster asked, and Remus knew the question was about time travel. When he had visited Dumbledore before the full moon, they'd discussed other things like the political system (a new Minister for Magic had just been elected, and Dumbledore found him amusing) and creature regulations (a woman named Dolores Umbridge had forced a Werewolf Registration Act in the fall of 1988).

Now they turned to truly important matters, and Remus could only shake his head.

The Headmaster became thoughtful. "The only thing that strikes me as unusual is that all this happened on the twenty-second of March," he said. "That's the day after the spring equinox - no, in 1980, that _was_ the spring equinox. I often forget the extra day of February."

_Solstices and equinoxes._

"Professor," Remus tread carefully, "What is unusual about an equinox?"

"Well, only twice a year is time perfectly balanced between night and day," Dumbledore explained.

Remus knew this already. "And what would that mean?"

"Hmm…" the old man rubbed his beard. "The muggles of the past believed, and some still believe to this day, that the veil between the world of the living and the dead grows thinner on solstices and equinoxes. The dead exist out of time, and perhaps you fell into a rift created by the unique combination of magics."

It was time. "I found something when I went looking through a book," he said. "In _Time and Radical Manipulation_." He spoke of the writing, and how it was his, and of his belief that Dumbledore was correct about the equinox.

"You're certain it was in your handwriting?"

"Certain," Remus confirmed.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I remember you were desperate to get to the library after that battle in Hogsmeade," he mused. "Of course, I'd never given it much thought - my mind was occupied by other things, you understand. This might explain why you were in such a hurry."

"So, to be clear," he asked the professor, "I arrived after the battle was over? On the same day?"

"Yes."

"And I had the same injuries as when I arrived here?"

"Those as well."

Remus frowned in thought. "It would stand to reason, then, that I'll return to my same physical state. That no outside timeline will interfere…" he trailed off, contemplating the theory behind this new discovery.

The Headmaster spoke and started him out of his thoughts. "If we go by this logic, then the best time to attempt returning you would be on the solstice. The train for Hogwarts leaves one day before, so we shouldn't be in any danger of being found out."

"What spell, though?" Remus prompted.

"Minerva, Filius and I will work on that," promised Dumbledore. "In the meantime, I suggest you make the best of your stay here."

Did he know about Tonks?

The thought made Remus distinctly uncomfortable for some reason. Minerva knowing about his friendship with Tonks wasn't so horrible (it was just a friendship), but with the Headmaster he couldn't be sure what the old man was thinking.

Remus stood. "Thank you for meeting with me," he said.

"Not at all."

"And thank Snape for the Wolfsbane Potion," he added, somewhat reluctantly.

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I'll make sure he receives the gratitude. You know there's another full moon before the solstice, so we'll do this again."

He left the Headmaster's office and went to his own, fully intent on getting sleep.

Remus might have stopped by the Hospital Wing to get a potion for the pain in his body, but it was the middle of the day and he would rather not bother Madam Pomfrey if she was busy with the students. A bit of rest and food would clear off most the aches in a day or so.

There was talk in the corridors (filled with the moving crowd of teenagers) of the Quidditch final on Sunday. The match was between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, and the odds were on Ravenclaw to win. Gryffindor was out of the running, which was a shame. The word was that Gryffindor had no true Chasers on their team and only mediocre Beaters, although their Keeper and Seeker - Charlie - was rather talented.

When James was on the team Gryffindor won six years straight.

He checked his watch and saw it wasn't even lunch. Maybe he'd grab a bite… no, no he wouldn't. Remus was far too tired to think about food. If Sirius were here, he'd scold Remus within an inch of his life for letting his body suffer so terribly.

When Remus stepped into the office, pulling off his cloak, he saw Minerva sitting at the desk.

"Good morning," he greeted her politely.

"She fancies you."

"Pardon?"

"Nymphadora Tonks," Minerva said irritably. "She fancies you."

Remus tensed. "It's a harmless schoolgirl crush," he told her. "There's no harm in it. I like her company."

"Be careful," his old professor warned.

"I'm always careful," he replied.

"I mean it."

"Minerva, it sounds as if you don't trust me," Remus said, almost teasing.

Rather than return the joke, she adopted a very serious face. "I do trust you, Remus. But you have to consider her family. Her mother's maiden name is Black, and Tonks could tell you things about her family that you shouldn't know in the past. That information could change the outcome, and perhaps not for the better."

He shrugged. "Just because her family is a bit rotten -" he began.

"No," she cut him off. "There are things you shouldn't know about the Blacks."

"I'll keep that in mind," Remus said tersely. "I'm sorry, but I need to rest. We'll speak tomorrow, maybe?"

After a moment, Minerva stood, wearing a disapproving frown. "As long as you think you can handle it," she said ominously, and headed out the office. He heard the classroom door close with a hard _snap_ moments later, and let out a breath.

He didn't like arguing with her about anything, but he didn't want to stop seeing Tonks either. Remus might have spent more time wondering about this, but he was tired and his body told him to rest. Barely able to keep his eyes open, Remus went to the dresser and pulled out a muggle t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. He tugged them on and pulled the shades down to hide the murky light from the windows before collapsing into bed.

**-  
5  
-**

Remus was woken by a knock on his bedroom door. He groaned softly and leaned over to check the clock on his dresser. It read twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Had he been interrupted only an hour after sleeping? He might have gotten angry with the person outside the door if he didn't feel so rested.

He stretched and dragged himself out of bed, and the knocking stopped.

Quickly, before the person left the office, Remus stumbled forward and pulled open the door. The sun pouring through the windows in the office nearly blinded him, and Remus raised a hand to block the light from his unadjusted sight.

Tonks whipped around, her body half out the office. Today her hair was pure white and sticking out in a rather adorable pixie cut. Her face lit up when she laid eyes on him, and then her expression changed when she took in his appearance.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said hurriedly, "But Lisbeth told me she saw you coming from Dumbledore's office yesterday and I thought I'd stop by to say hello."

"Yesterday?" his brain was a little foggy.

"Yeah, she said you came back but I didn't want to bother you until later, and then later didn't happen at all so I thought I'd just pop in at our usual time. That is, I think it's our usual time, but if you don't that's perfectly fine, too…"

Remus put a hand to his head. "Yesterday?" he repeated. "I've slept through a whole day?"

Tonks' lips parted. "Are you not well?"

"Just very tired," he muttered.

"I'll leave, then," she said awkwardly.

"No!" Remus said this with more vehemence than he thought necessary, but the only clear thought he had in his waking brain was that he didn't want her to go. "No, I'd rather you stayed. Just let me wash up and put on some respectable clothes."

He pointedly ignored her joyful face and trundled back into the bedroom and past it, into the bathroom.

While he brushed his teeth and hair and washed his face, Remus wondered if he would take to the grounds this afternoon. The grass might still be wet, but if he brought a blanket to sit on or cast an Impervius Charm then he needn't worry about a patch on his bum. Besides, if the day was hot enough all the grounds would be dry by the time he made his way out. As far as he could tell there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

It had been over a week (ten days, to be exact) since the weather had been fair enough to venture outside, and if Remus only had seven weeks left, seven weeks until the solstice, then he would take as much time in the warmth as he could.

He came back out and blinked in surprise.

Tonks had opened the shades in his room, made his bed, and proceeded to sit on it cross-legged.

"Whose room is this again?" he asked pointedly.

"Technically, it's not your room either," Tonks answered wickedly. "You know, you're a bit of a neat-freak."

"What did you expect, trousers and shirts strewn all over the floor? Socks draped over lamps?" Remus snorted when she nodded sheepishly. "I'd have thought you knew my habits a bit better than that by now."

She rolled her eyes. "And you're sure you're not gay?"

He gave her a hard look. "Positive."

If he was a homosexual, then Remus would imagine the sight of a female - any female - on his bed would not be so mouth-watering as it was. For the first time, Remus had to remind himself that Tonks was much younger than him. Sure, he was only three years older than her now, but the real Remus Lupin was thirty and thirteen years her senior. Never mind that she was pretty and funny and unintentionally appealing…

Considering her as anything other than an amusing companion was exactly what Minerva had feared, and he should have listened earlier. Remus really needed to get Tonks off his bed and back into the safety of his office, but he didn't.

Instead he sat across from her.

"There's a match in a few days," she told him eagerly.

"So I heard."

"Are you going?"

"I haven't decided yet," he answered. He picked at the quilt idly. "I've no interest in either House, and I can't support any other team than Gryffindor."

Tonks laughed. "Why? Were you a Gryffindor when you went to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I was," Remus said with pride. "My best mate was Captain of the team, and I went to every game. Well, except for one, but then I got such a hard time for it that I never skipped another match. In fact I was the one who set up all the parties."

"How long ago was that?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you fishing for my age, Miss Nymphadora Tonks?"

Tonks blushed for a moment before ridding herself of the complexion. "Perhaps."

"Well, how old do you think I am?" he teased, curious to find out what she thought.

"Err… twenty-five?"

Remus leaned back against the headboard. Not for the first time, he reflected that his lycanthrope condition had aged him. Already he had a few threads of grey hair mixed with his sandy brown color, and if he were a vain person it might bother him.

She sighed. "You're younger, aren't you?" she said in a humiliated voice.

"Not by much," he answered. If one thought about the time difference, twenty-five was an even compromise.

"Sorry," Tonks offered.

"Why should you be?"

"I dunno," she said. "I just thought… you seem all bothered that I said twenty-five."

Remus glanced over and saw how anxious her eyes were. He granted her a smile. "Believe me, Tonks, there is very little you could do to annoy me. I find your honesty refreshing. There are many people in the world who don't have the courtesy to say what is on their minds."

Tonks scooted a little closer to him, and his body (without consent) reacted a little in turn. "So, it won't annoy you if I ask you to say stuff about your life? Cause we've talked about me over and over and I still know next to nothing about you. Only I didn't want to ask because I thought you'd get all mad."

He frowned. "Don't you have class?"

"McGonagall and Flitwick both gave us study sessions today," she said with a dismissive wave.

Remus knew they were working with Dumbledore to invent a spell and send him home, and although he should have been grateful for their help all he could muster was an indifferent, weary understanding. Why should he want to return when everything good was in this time?

"I was in Gryffindor, like I said," he began. "I was a bit of a troublemaker, though out of my friends I was definitely the mildest. Dumbledore actually made me prefect in fifth year and they all made fun of me. But it was even funnier when one of them got Head Boy. I've the three best friends anyone could hope for, you see, so I didn't mind getting in trouble so much except if they did something particularly nasty…"

And so he talked. And talked. Remus told her about his early childhood, about his mum and dad and how they didn't have so much time for him. He shared his fears that he wouldn't get into Hogwarts, though he didn't explain why, and emphasized how much in debt he was to Dumbledore.

He told her about all the pranks the Marauders (he kept the name a secret) had pulled in the seven years they spent together at school, sometimes causing Tonks to laugh so hard she'd have tears streaming from her eyes. He revealed that he'd only ever had one girlfriend because he was scared of getting close to people only to lose them. Some of the things he said that afternoon he wouldn't have shared with anyone else.

Without giving dates or names, Remus told her everything about all his friends. Forrest he talked about with great enthusiasm and to her mix of amusement and pity. When he talked about Dorcas and his regrets that he never gave a relationship with her a shot, Tonks became subdued.

Remus wished she didn't fancy him. He'd thought being twenty would turn her away, but she'd considered him twenty-five and still very likeable. It worried him that she was so drawn to older men, and hoped the next bloke she fancied would be as much of a gentleman as possible.

But he didn't like thinking about the other men she would desire in the future.

Eventually he had to invent something about his time traveling, and since he didn't like lying he tried to tell as many true stories as possible to counter the fabrications. Remus McGonagall, it seemed, was a more outgoing person than Remus Lupin ever had been.

Tonks watched him speak the whole while, and her attention touched him. Very few people devoted their attention just to him like this. Remus doubted that James or Sirius had done so more than once, and not for such a long time as this.

It was a shame she was only seven in 1980, because he'd never connected so well with another person in his life.

"What's it like?" she asked him when he paused his weave of truth and fiction. "Travelling?"

She'd asked him the same question the day the day they'd met, and Remus hadn't given her a straight answer. He thought about what to say, and then the answer came to him in a whisper, brought on by the link between them.

"It's lonely," he said truthfully, except he wasn't talking about travelling anymore.

"But you meet so many people," Tonks pointed out.

"Yes, but no one really knows who I am, or where I come from. They don't understand loneliness." Remus looked directly into her eyes. "That's why I enjoy spending time with you so much, Nymphadora. You understand being alone in a sea of people, how isolated you can feel."

They shared a look, and something deep passed between them. Whatever it was went into his soul, and he lost his breath for a moment.

"No one gets how lonely it is," she agreed in a sad whisper.

"I do."

"Yes, you do." Tonks began to lean forward, her lips slightly parted.

Remus knew what she was going to do, and he looked down to check his watch. "Damn," he said. "We've been here for nearly three hours. I'm starving."

When he looked back up, she had returned to her original position as if she'd never moved to kiss him at all. He didn't know what to make of it, except that the niggling thought that if she _had_ kissed him he wouldn't have minded so terribly.

"Do you want to come to the kitchens with me for some food?" he asked her.

"Err…" clearly, Tonks was just as uncomfortable as he.

"The house-elves don't mind," Remus promised. "They're thrilled whenever a student finds them."

"I've never been," she admitted.

He let out a mock-gasp. "And here I thought you were the rebellious sort. Come on, you'll need to remember this when I'm gone."

Remus took her down to the kitchens where she got nearly as much food as he. Their conversation went on longer and longer. Remus knew he was stalling the time when she had to leave, and he was certain she was doing the same, but when the bell rang for last class of the day, Tonks gave him a wistful smile and traipsed off without complaint.

Later that evening, as he considered the spot on his bed where she sat (where her scent still lingered in tantalizing wafts of soap and sugar), Remus realized that he should have listened to Minerva. He should have been more careful.

**-  
5  
-**

Remus didn't end up going to the game on Sunday, although he'd planned to. It was a good thing he hadn't told Tonks one way or the other, because making apologies was something he wasn't in the mood for.

It was his own fault, really. If he hadn't been so foolish then nothing would have spoilt his mood.

The thought he'd had for nearly a month now - _who_ defeated Lord Voldemort? - had begun to snarl in his head, demanding immediate attention. Sleep began to elude him, and it seemed as if a rat was gnawing away at the back of his head.

So Saturday evening, Remus stepped down to the library and went looking for books that might help him, namely in the _History, 1960 - 1986_ section. This area was new to him, and it was quite a thought that the library grew every so often. Madam Pince never culled books, after all, so perhaps the room utilized a spell to house all the tomes.

He scanned the shelves carefully, looking for a good title. There were plenty of books concerning the advancement of spells and some even detailing muggle achievements, but that was not his interest. Finally, he found what he was searching for - the Dark Arts.

Two titles immediately struck his interest; _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_.

Remus decided he'd start with the latter since it seemed more specific. He pulled it down and scanned the book contents until he found the chapter towards the end labeled "The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters: A Reign of Terror."

Clearly, he was in the right book.

Most of the chapter was filled with things he already knew, many battles in which he'd fought and seen comrades fall.

Towards the end, though, was something interesting. He read attentively.

_Towards the end of 1981, the situation grew even more bleak. The Dark Lord gained his momentum by inviting the goblins to the table, offering them equal rights with wizards if they helped him eradicate the muggleborn population. The goblin clans were divided evenly on the prospect, with many of the opposition claiming persecution from the Dark Lord in the end. The clans that wished for autonomy joined with the Death Eaters and the slew of Dark Creatures He Who Must Not Be Named had convinced to join his cause._

_Along with his growing army, the Dark Lord also paved the way for domination over Wizarding England by taking out several prominent voices speaking out against his methods or openly defying him. Among the great names were Gideon and Fabian Prewett, the famed Auror twins; Dorcas Meadowes, an Auror with high standing in the Ministry whom the Dark Lord personally murdered; Marlene McKinnon and family, political naysayers; and Edgar Bones, the respected Auror, along with family. Morale had greatly waned in the opposition, although the surviving important figures such as Albus Dumbledore, Aurors Alastor Moody and Bartemius Crouch, the Longbottom family, and Mr and Mrs James Potter still represented an important faction in the Wizarding community._

_On the night of October 31__st__, perhaps one of the most important Wizarding phenomenon occurred, still heralded as a miracle._

_By reliable accounts such as Albus Dumbledore, the Dark Lord set out to take out the Potter family and further cement his hold over England. He successfully killed Mr and Mrs James Potter before turning his wand on their one-year-old son Harry. However, when he attempted the Killing Curse on the young Potter boy, the curse rebounded and in one fell stroke ended the eleven year reign of He Who Must Not Be Named, with nothing more than a unique lightening bolt-shaped scar on the Potter child's forehead to show for it. Harry Potter is still widely regarded as one of the great heroes of the world though his whereabouts are unknown. It is believed he is living with relatives out the public eye._

_After the fall of the Dark Lord…_

Remus had read enough.

He closed the book and pressed his palms to his eyes to stave away tears. Lily and James were murdered by Voldemort? How could Dumbledore not have told him? There were opportunities, they'd discussed Voldemort _and _Lily and James on more than one occasion. Two best friends of his were violently murdered.

Gideon and Fabian Prewett… Dorcas Meadowes… Marlene McKinnon… Edgar Bones…

These were names of the Order of the Phoenix. Remus felt the loss of every single person like a knife in his chest. Were more dead that he knew nothing about? Were Sirius or Peter dead as well?

He stood quite suddenly and went to the back of the library, where Madam Pince kept all her old newspapers. He had to know. He had to know how high the price for this happy world truly was, and what loved ones would perish.

There it was. 1981, just one year after his time. One and a half years specifically.

Remus dug through the stack of _Daily Prophets_ with almost no thought.

The first thing he found was the headline "The Dark Lord Defeated!" and under that, "The Greatest Threat in the Wizarding World Foiled by a Child."

He pulled this out and opened it. The article detailed nearly as much as in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, but with many more words and a tone of absolute joy even as the journalist discussed the demise of Lily and James Potter. According to the paper, Lily Potter had been three months pregnant with the couple's second child.

Remus felt sick. He put the paper back and was about to walk away before he saw the title of the paper beneath it.

"Mass-Murderer Sirius Black Apprehended."

_What?_

He grabbed the whole pile beneath it, everything from November 2nd to the end of the year, and then piled on several articles from the early part of 1982 for good measure. Remus nearly ran out of the library and back to his office, thankful no one saw him. If they had they might think him mad.

The second he closed the door to his office and dropped the old _Daily Prophets_ on his desk, Remus read the article.

"Mass Murderer Sirius Black Apprehended."

_In the early morning hours of November the second, only twenty-four hours after the demise of the Dark Lord by one-year-old Harry Potter, Sirius Black was apprehended by Ministry wizards after killing twelve muggles and one wizard Peter Pettigrew._

_One witness claimed that Pettigrew had been sobbing, saying to Black, "Lily and James, Sirius? How could you?" before he could elaborate on Black's role in the murders of Lily and James Potter, Black used an extremely potent spell, blowing up a block of homes in a muggle neighborhood. When Ministry officials arrived on scene minutes later, the largest piece of Pettigrew they recovered was a finger. Several sources claim Black was laughing as he was carted away to await trial._

_As to the damage on the muggle street, one Ministry…_

Remus dropped the _Daily Prophet_ and promptly hurled his dinner into the nearby wastebasket. He could not stop heaving in disgust and horror, and the acidic remnants of his meal burned at his mouth. The taste made him sicker.

After there was nothing left to expel, Remus stood and staggered to the bathroom. He washed his hands and mouth, scrubbing at the skin, rinsing and rinsing again, as if somehow it would take every bad thing away.

Sirius.

Sirius was responsible.

For everything.

He killed Peter in cold blood, along with twelve muggles. He'd almost certainly given Lily and James up to Voldemort.

Sirius had to have been a spy.

But… Sirius? Remus couldn't imagine his friend, his dearest friend and stalwart companion, would do any such thing. Maybe the paper was wrong, and he'd find out that something else - _anything_ else - had been the cause of the explosion.

Peter was known to be wrong from time to time; he might have made a mistake.

…Sirius had _laughed_.

No one who'd lost three dear friends in such a short time would laugh. No one, unless they were insane, and Remus knew Sirius to be quite within his right mind. Never mind the endless jokes they'd made to his madness, or the fun they'd poked at his choice in women. Sirius Black had been sane.

Still, Remus had to be sure.

He went back to the pile, flipping through headlines.

"Lucius Malfoy Arrested: Suspected Death Eater." "Igor Karkaroff Arrested: Confirmed Death Eater." "Lucius Malfoy Acquitted." "Walden Macnair Arrested: Suspected Death Eater." "Marcus Avery Arrested: Suspected Death Eater." "Igor Karkaroff Names Department of Ministry Official as Death Eater; Augustus Rookwood Arrested." "Sirius Black Convicted Without Trial." "Walden Macnair Acquitted."

Remus paused at one article.

"Frank and Alice Longbottom: A Great Travesty." The date was December 28th.

_Four suspected Death Eaters were arrested at the home of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Aurors and vocal dissenters of the Dark Lord. Medi-Wizards arrived on scene shortly after the arrests were made, and while the extent of the damage is unclear, reports from eye-witnesses claim the couple were tortured by means of the Cruciatus Curse. One witness claims the Longbottoms "had nothing left up there," driven insane by the torture._

_The arrested four are as followed: Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, married couple (Mrs Lestrange is cousin of mass-murderer Sirius Black); Rodolphus' brother Rastaban Lestrange, and Bartemius Crouch, Jr._

_The scandal following the apprehension of the Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement's son, in such a gruesome and horrifying act of Dark Magic, will surely be great. Crouch, Sr. worked alongside the Longbottoms for years. As of now Crouch, Sr. has no comment for the _Daily Prophet_, but Mrs Augusta Longbottom, mother of Frank, has this to say:_

"_We will not tolerate the injustice done to our dear family. To go after a young couple with a baby in the house is despicable enough, but my son and daughter-in-law are important pillars of this community. They have done nothing but serve us in good times and in bad."_

_The one-year-old son of Mr and Mrs Longbottom Neville has been taken into the care of his grandmother._

He kept reading, thankful there was nothing left to expunge from his stomach.

"Lestranges and Crouch, Jr. Arrested." "Igor Karkaroff Acquitted." "Augustus Rookwood Convicted Without Trial." "Marcus Avery Acquitted." "Wasps Beater Ludovic Bagman Arrested: Suspected Death Eater." "Quentin Travers Arrested: Confirmed Death Eater." "Lestranges and Crouch Convicted." "Quentin Travers Convicted." "Ludovic Bagman Acquitted." "Bartemius Crouch, Sr. Steps Down from Head of Department."

On and on it went, names arrested and acquitted or convicted.

Remus read some of the articles briefly, trying to understand why some of these people were acquitted when he knew almost for a fact that they were Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy, for one, couldn't be anything but. And Walden McNair? He'd met the man once and could smell evil.

Finally, as the tide of convictions slowed and headlines grew mundane once more, Remus threw down the _Daily Prophets_ and leaned back in the office chair.

This was his future.

He was afraid to live through it, knowing all that he did.

**-  
5  
-**

When the sun finally called to him over the sound of his despair nearly a week later, Remus headed out to the grounds to lay under the bows of the tree.

He couldn't do anything about Sirius or the slew of dead friends in his wake. Remus wished he could, wished desperately that he could make a difference in the outcome. But he didn't know, still, whether time ran circular or linear. He didn't know if he could fix the disaster before him.

He also wished that he could stop worrying about it and feeling so dreadful, but that wasn't possible. Every memory and joke was coated in a fine dust of doubt. When did Sirius turn dark? Was it before or after they created the Marauder's Map, or the three others became Animagi? Was it in between dating Giselle Anders and nicking food from the kitchens? Had Sirius been thick with Mulciber and Avery and the lot even while he tormented Snape and shot insults at Slytherin?

Sirius always claimed he couldn't abide the pureblood mania of his family, and that was the best cover of them all. It had to be. Who would doubt a Gryffindor rebelling from his family? Who wouldn't take in someone like that? Remus didn't doubt him for a second.

Or…

An even worse question reared its ugly head.

What if Sirius had changed his mind? After years of being friends with muggleborns and a werewolf, had he decided that he wasn't interested in remaining a champion of the right? This was so much more terrible. If Sirius had fooled them all along, then they were at fault for not seeing the deception. If Sirius had turned, though…

Remus turned his mind to other things with some difficulty.

He could go round and round with this but it would drive him insane.

So he lay on his back and felt the sunlight, and tried to consider pleasant things.

"Can I join you?" said the hesitant voice of Tonks.

Remus opened his eyes and squinted in her direction. She wore an uncommonly hesitant face and stood several feet away, as if he might bite if she came any closer. He didn't understand why Tonks had even asked in the first place, since her style was usually more intrusive.

He patted the ground next to him. "It's all yours," he told her, and closed his eyes once more.

Tonks made barely any noise as she settled down beside him. At first she sat, but after a few minutes he could literally hear her hesitation before she lay down, her hand just brushing his in the soft grass. For a moment he felt like a thirteen-year-old boy all over again.

They lay in silence together for a long while. Remus was intent on listening to all the sounds, like the birds, and the soft lap of the lake against its shore, and the whistle of the wind, but he found himself increasingly drawn to one noise, and that was the rhythm of Tonks' breathing. She took deep, sighing breaths, and he imagined she was taking in every smell. A part of him had relaxed a little at her arrival, while another part entirely felt on edge.

Although he tried very hard to deny it, he had to admit that her attraction to him wasn't as one-sided as he'd claimed. If he was asked, Remus wouldn't be able to pinpoint the exact day or event that had changed his feelings from amused interest to this insanity. It had just sort of fallen into place.

"You've been gone a while," Tonks said. She sounded nervous.

"Hmm? No, I was here," he mumbled, not really thinking about what he was saying. "I just needed to be alone."

"Oh."

Remus waited for the accompanying "why," but she didn't say anything else.

Curious, he opened his eyes and saw that Tonks looked beyond miserable, belying the cheerful turquoise shade of her hair. She stared directly up, not meeting his eyes, and her lower lip trembled with the effort of holding tears away. He didn't understand what had made her so upset.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's alright; I get it," said Tonks quietly.

He was confused. "Get what?"

"I made you talk about things you didn't want to," she whispered. Her voice gained a warbling note. "And I was extremely pushy and… and I sat on your bed and invade your personal space like a complete strumpet! I was completely out of line. And then I tried to kiss you, and it was stupid - just stupid. You must be so fed up with me by now because I've done nothing but wedge my way into your life…"

Tonks trailed off, biting her lip.

"When did you decide all this?" he asked, completely at a loss. Remus understood the female sex better than his friends, certainly, but he was no expert. "I thought we had a fantastic time the other day."

"You… really?"

"Really," Remus said. "Believe me Tonks, when I don't want to share something, I don't."

"So, you needed to be alone, but not because of me?" she confirmed carefully.

Remus rolled to his side and put one hand under her chin. He tilted her head carefully to look at him, though she initially resisted. It was his excuse to touch her without believing himself to be a pervert interested in young girls. He had acknowledged the true thirteen year age gap as a means of keeping his hands off her before, but now it dominated everything he did in their interactions. But this, this was innocent touching… wasn't it?

"Is that what you think?" he asked her quietly. "That I was avoiding you?"

"I dunno," Tonks said with a blush. "It's incredibly self-centered of me, isn't it?"

He didn't move his hand from her jaw.

"Why do you always think you're an inconvenience to me?" Remus murmured. "Have I said something to make you think I don't want you around?"

"No, but… I'm just this stupid girl -"

"You're not stupid," he snapped. At her surprised expression, he softened his tone. "You're not. And you, Nymphadora Tonks, are not 'just' anything."

She went a dull red. "What I mean is, you travel and see the world and meet all sorts of exotic people. So I'm not sure why you make time for me at all. If I were you, I wouldn't spend time worrying about sixth year Hufflepuffs."

"I thought I'd answered this already," Remus said dryly and finally put his hand to his side.

Tonks shrugged as well as she could while lying down. "I s'pose."

He shook his head. "Why are you so hard on yourself?"

She didn't say anything, and he continued to watch her. Tonks turned her head back up to meet the sun.

She really was lovely, Remus acknowledged. And it wasn't so much about her physicality, because that changed every day. She was a genuinely beautiful person. The way she walked, and spoke, how clumsy she could be sometimes, her full and joyful laugh…

Merlin, he was fucked.

"My family's full of Death Eaters," she said suddenly.

He held quite still.

"My Aunt Bellatrix and her husband, they're in Azkaban. I'm sure you remember; it was a very publicized trial. The Lestranges, that is. They did all sorts of bad things and if my aunt wasn't mad before she got shipped off, then she surely is now. My other aunt married Lucius Malfoy, and if he's not a Death Eater then I don't know who is. My mum got disowned for marrying my dad, 'cause he's muggleborn, and I remember when I was little there wasn't any money because they wouldn't help her and dad out.

"And my mum's cousins were Death Eaters, too. Regulus wasn't so terrible, because they say he tried to back out of it all, but Sirius Black - well, you know about him." Tonks paused, and Remus tried very hard not to think about what Sirius had done. "Everyone knows all about him. And they know I'm related to him and all those other Death Eaters, and when I first got here I didn't make any friends because everyone said I was just as bad as my lot.

"Except I really don't want to be. That's why I want to be an Auror - so I can make up for all the shit my family's done in the world," she concluded. "Cause if I can make up for everything they've ever done, then at least that'll be something."

He nodded, and then realizing she couldn't see him with her eyes forward, added, "What your family has done has nothing to do with you. But it's a noble task all the same."

Tonks sighed. "I know that in my head, but in here…" she touched between her breasts.

"Because no one would be your friend," Remus concluded. They really weren't that different, after all. He just hadn't known it. "But when I saw you on your birthday you had lots of friends. What changed?"

"Charlie," she said. "He decided I was alright one day, and then on we've been best mates. I think he wants to be more, and I think I might, too."

Remus felt an odd, slimy thing inside him, and he named it jealousy. He liked Charlie, from what he'd seen of the boy, and had nothing against him, yet when Remus left Charlie would still be here and willing to step up as comfort.

Against his baser instincts, though, he said, "That's good, isn't it? Friends to lovers is always the best way to go about it."

"Lovers?" Tonks laughed out loud. "_Lovers?_ Are you shitting me?"

"What? It's a perfectly normal word," Remus defended himself.

"It's cheesy. And corny, and all sorts of adjectives about how not normal it is," she replied. "No one uses 'lovers' anymore."

He snorted. "You mean no one your age. Give it a few years; it won't be such a strange word to you."

"Doubt it."

"You've never _had_ a lover, how would you know?"

"I just do. And how do you know I've never been shagged?" Tonks asked indignantly. "For all you know, I've been with loads of blokes!"

"No you haven't," Remus said, rolling his eyes.

Tonks turned onto her side to face him. "Like hell," she countered.

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't move like a woman who knows what sex feels like," he informed her. And she didn't, but there was the conversation he'd overheard the first time they'd met right here under this very tree.

"Bullshit, Remus McGonagall," she called, not realizing how accurate that truly was.

"No? Watch a group of girls one day," he challenged. "Maybe you only see it once you see the difference up close."

"Like if you deflower an innocent young lady?" she teased.

"That's one way to do it," Remus allowed.

"You're so making this up."

"Am not."

"You are!"

Remus leaned in close. "A woman who's made love," he said in a low voice, "Moves _very_ differently than one who hasn't. You can see it. She's more confident than a virgin because she knows all the pleasures her body can give her and what it can do for others, be they men or women. She knows how it feels to give over to animal instincts and let herself go completely to ecstasy. And _you_, Nymphadora, are entirely too human to know that sensation."

In a completely unintentional side effect, Tonks' mouth was open slightly and she seemed to be struggling for air. There lay a glint in her eye that he'd seen before, except not on her. It was the look of desire, and Remus was instantly contrite for quoting one of James' reveals of the female body in seventh year.

"Besides," he went on, "You wouldn't have argued so vehemently if you weren't a virgin."

That lightened the mood instantly.

"I still call bullshit," Tonks said.

"Then I suppose you'll just have to wait and see for yourself."

"I suppose so."

He laughed and rolled onto his back.

Remus was surprisingly lightheaded from being in such proximity to her. He needed oxygen in his brain before doing something rash, like introducing her to the difference of a virgin and a sexual being firsthand. No, that would not do at all.

How the hell did they even start talking about such a dangerous topic? Was it his fault or hers? Or was it just the connection between them speaking out?

_Be careful, you tosser, or you'll break her heart_, he warned himself. Not to mention his own.

**-  
5  
-**

Exams were just around the corner for the students, and Remus could taste the anxiety in the air. The noise in the corridors was louder, but tenser, and it seemed nearly everyone was on the verge of tears. He wouldn't have minded so much, except Tonks was busy studying instead of spending time with him.

He was being incredibly selfish, and knew it, but that didn't stop the annoyance he felt.

Of course, her inability to visit him meant Remus could sneak away to the Shrieking Shack without worrying about an excuse. It was a week to the end of May, and how time had passed so quickly he didn't know. He hated it. A part of him wished he could stay here for a year (or maybe two). After all, he knew he'd arrive back on March 22nd, 1980, safe and sound and back to the way he'd left.

But no… that wasn't responsible. He had things to do, wrongs to right. Remus had to do something about Sirius, and about the ill-fated Order members. He needed to warn… he didn't know exactly who to warn. Dumbledore maybe?

Snape came around to provide the Wolfsbane Potion again in the week leading up to the full moon, as silent as the first moon. This time, though, Remus had a little more faith in the man; given how comparatively well his last month's transformation had gone. He dreaded the waxing of the moon a little less, but if faced with a boggart his own personal worst fear would not change. He doubted it ever _would_ change.

Remus only saw Tonks once before his transformation, when she came by his office looking for chocolate bars.

"Wotcher! I hate to grab and run on you," she said all in a rush, "But the Hufflepuff common room's rubbish for getting anything done - you wouldn't believe the noise in there! - and the only place I can get any quiet is in the dorm, 'cept Marcie and Laura keep moaning about how hungry they are and I said 'if I get you chocolate would you shut the bloody hell up so me and Lisbeth can actually do some studying?' and they said yeah so I thought you might have some."

"Would you like some oxygen to go with all those words?" he asked mildly.

"No time," she replied. "Do you?"

He held the new box from Minerva before her. "Take as many as you like. The fruit ones are at the front."

"I bloody love you," Tonks said fervently, and grabbed about twelve chocolate bars. "I'll come see you on the weekend. Maybe. Dunno. Exams are murder."

And she left the office at a jog.

Remus had his transformation on May 30th, and when he returned at the beginning of June exams were only a week-and-a-half away. Sooner for the fifth and seventh years - sooner and longer. He stopped in to see Madam Pomfrey and found her working on two unconscious students who had apparently fainted from mental exhaustion. One seventh year was shaking in a corner, which the nurse had attributed to a nervous breakdown.

So, understandably, he was surprised (and elated) when Tonks showed up in his office, a large book bag stuffed with countless material on her shoulders. He hadn't expected to see her until exams had ended.

"Can I study in your classroom?" she asked.

"Of course," Remus answered. "I'm surprised you didn't ask earlier."

"Great. And can Lisbeth be in here too?"

He nodded, and so it began.

That first night, it was just Tonks and her friend Lisbeth, pouring over Herbology papers with an intensity he'd never seen Tonks have before. She was such a casually blunt person most of the time - he shouldn't have been caught unaware, knowing she wanted to be an Auror, but it was a new and exciting part of her.

On the second night, Lisbeth didn't return, but Caden Hart and two other boys had settled in before she'd even asked if it was alright. Remus had merely sighed and told her the classroom was, for all intents and purposes, hers until exams were over. Spells flew around the room, many of them wordless and complicated. He deduced after one chair became a bat that the subject of the evening was Transfiguration, and kept clear out of the way.

Nothing happened on the night after that, but on the fourth evening all seven friends were in the classroom reading through notes and books, bouncing things off each other.

Charlie Weasley was there.

Remus worked very hard to keep his face neutral when he walked out of the office (on his way to the kitchens) and saw that the ginger-haired boy had his arm slung around Tonks' shoulders in a casually possessive manner. Harder still to ignore was Tonks' body leaning slightly against Charlie's as they worked on a practice quiz together.

If he made a comment, the slimy thing in him might explode and take over all of his words and actions. He might hex the sixth year boy and do something incredibly wolf-like. Dear Merlin, what if he peed on her leg to mark his territory? That was possibly as bad as his caveman urge to knock Tonks over the head with a club and drag her off to his room. The worst part was how close he was to actually doing that - and Remus usually considered himself to be a civilized person.

He'd nearly made it to the door when Tonks called, "Remus!" in a high, guilty voice.

Remus turned reluctantly to look at the pair of them, except they weren't a pair. Tonks sat upright, and Charlie's arm was in his lap.

While the Weasley boy glowered, Remus tried very hard to keep the victory smirk from his face.

"Do you need something?" he asked, sounding for all the world like a disinterested gentleman.

"Just a spot of help," she said with a defeated tone. Perhaps he'd sounded too disinterested - room for Charlie to step in. That was no good. "Listen, do you know five discerning features of a werewolf from a regular wolf? I got the question last year on my O.W.L.s dead wrong and I'm all stuck."

_One: he's sitting in my chair. Two: he's wearing my shirt. Three: His name's Remus Lupin…_

Shaking his head to clear it of the déjà vu, Remus listed the five main features off expertly. He should be an expert, given his full moon occupation.

When he came back from the kitchens, Charlie's arm covered Tonks' shoulder once more, and this time when Remus walked through the room, she didn't bother to remove it. He kept on walking and didn't look back. If he did… the caveman approach to mating was outdated, and despite her fancy of him Remus seriously doubted she'd enjoy it.

On the fifth night Tonks wasn't there, but Charlie, Lisbeth, Caden Hart, and another boy with cropped black hair all huddled around a desk and talking about magical creatures with great enthusiasm. Remus was intent on ignoring the lot, but Charlie made his way into the office a little later.

"What do you want with Dora?" he asked Remus churlishly.

"Sorry?" Remus said, sounding for all the world as though he didn't understand the question.

Charlie sat. "Look, she's my best mate," the redhead began, "And I love her to bits, but sometimes she's a bit of an idiot when it comes to blokes. Only it seems like you're leading her on, and I don't like it. In fact, I might have to get rough with you, except I think you're a decent fellow so I don't want to."

"I have no intention of harming Nymphadora," Remus said stiffly. Good Lord, what was with all these people butting into his relationship with the girl?

"See, that's the thing," Charlie exclaimed. "You don't know the first thing about her! She hates being called by her first name! Me, I'm the one who knows her, the one who's been here all this time - and you come in for two months and act as though you've got rights -"

"Do _not_ presume to know me," Remus said dangerously.

"Don't try to shag my best friend!"

"Why, because you want her for yourself?"

Charlie went a dark, angry red.

"You don't get how it is for her," the Weasley growled.

"Do you?" he countered.

They sat in silence for a moment. Remus was entirely taken aback by the whole incident. He had never once before in his life been involved in a pissing contest over a girl, and he'd never expected to be in one with a boy three years his junior.

It would have been funny if Charlie's muscles weren't so intimidating.

"You're a good friend, Charlie," Remus finally said. "I respect that. But I've got to wonder if you're here for her sake or yours."

Without answering, the Weasley boy stood and stalked out of the office.

The sixth night was devoid of people, but the seventh had Tonks, Lisbeth, and Charlie studying up on Potions. Remus kept out of their way, but spent a good part of the evening wondering if Charlie's arm was around Tonks again and if it would be so terrible to give the boy a mild set of boils.

He didn't end up hexing anyone, though he might have fantasized.

On the eighth night, the last before exams officially began, it was just Tonks in the classroom, and Remus invited her into the office to use his larger desk and nicer chair while he read in his bedroom. Remus was soon caught up in the comedic novel he'd picked up (_The Princess Bride_ by William Goldman, if it must be known), and didn't realize it was after one o'clock in the morning until he idly checked his watch.

He went into the office to turn out the lights and found Tonks slumped over a massive textbook, snoring lightly.

Remus gave a little sigh at how much this sight endeared her to him.

"Tonks, wake up," he whispered, and poked her. But she wouldn't wake, and she looked so peaceful…

"Damn," he muttered, and picked her up. She was heavier than he'd anticipated, and he stumbled a little before carrying her into his room. Remus put her on the bed where he'd just been reclining and tugged off her shoes and socks.

There was nothing to be done about the rest of her clothes without seriously violating personal space, so Remus just tugged the covers up around her and set the alarm for seven-fifteen, plenty of time to get her things together and get down to breakfast. At least he hoped so, since either timeline you looked at it had been a while since he'd taken any sort of exams or woken up to a Hogwarts schedule.

And then he took a blanket and made himself comfortable on the floor beside her, settling in for as good of a night's sleep as he could get.

She was gone by the time he woke up.

Remus tried not to read into it like some sort of hormonal teenager, but it was very hard. All through the day he thought about why she felt the need to sneak, or if she was ashamed to be around him, or if Charlie got a good scare when Tonks said she'd spent the night - no, that was cruel. He shouldn't wonder that.

His worry spilled over into the next day, until Tonks came to see him during lunch.

"Sorry I kicked you out of your bed," she said without preamble.

"It's quite alright," Remus answered. He'd broken into a big, stupid smile when she walked in to his bedroom without reserve.

She shrugged. "Not really. And I didn't want to wake you, but I suppose I should have so you could've slept a few hours in your own bed."

"Believe me, I didn't mind."

"So… thank you."

"You're very welcome."

Awkward silence for a moment.

"Exams going alright?" he asked.

"Oh, don't even get me started!" Tonks flung herself dramatically onto his bed, stomach down. She went on and on about how bloody difficult the Charms exams were this year, not to mention how very much she loathed Arithmancy and shouldn't have taken it as a N.E.W.T. class, and why was everything so hard when this wasn't even the year for N.E.W.T. exams anyway since they just completed their O.W.L.s last spring?

He listened to her ramble, and tried not to ogle her bum (which was very difficult, given how it was displayed before him in all its youthful pertness), and decided that he could do this sort of thing every day with her. Not the rambling, or the exams, but the comfortable talking. The companionship.

She came by once or twice more during exams, but after declaring herself exhausted Tonks said she was done making any visits until every single test had been taken.

Remus couldn't fault her for that, but he _did_ miss her terribly. The worst was wondering how much Charlie got to see her every day.

And then he had to remind himself that once he left, Charlie would still see her everyday, just as he'd done for the past six years, and that Charlie and Tonks would probably marry and have lots of fat children with blue or pink hair, and Remus would be nothing more than a temporary bout of insanity.

If there was one thing Remus excelled at, it was depressing himself.

**-  
5  
-**

Remus got a note from Dumbledore via a house-elf to meet in the Headmaster's office on the second-to-last day of exams.

He made his way across the castle, knowing what would be discussed and hating that knowledge. It was far too soon for him to leave, and the solstice was only a week away. Only six days to spend with Tonks - five, really, considering that she'd be leaving in the late morning of the 20th. Remus didn't want to part from her any more than he wanted to part from the sun and the peacefulness of this time.

Although he'd thought this before, he'd never felt it so deeply, all the way to the marrow of his soul. Except…

Except in 1990, there was no Peter, no Lily and James, nor Dorcas or Marlene and all of his friends. Alice and Frank were sane in the past, Sirius wasn't a mass-murderer, and the world was still upset. For just one year he would have those people - have time for closure and proper goodbyes,

"Licorice wands," he said dully to the gargoyles.

They jumped away and he climbed the stone steps with a war of indecisiveness throughout his body and mind.

Dumbledore was there, and Flitwick, and Minerva, all waiting expectantly for him. Once Remus stepped inside the grand office, Minerva took a seat and Flitwick pulled out a roll of parchment. The Headmaster simply placed the tips of his fingers together and watched.

"This is a rather clandestine meeting," Remus observed dryly. "Should we lock the doors and windows? Set up Imperturbable Charms?"

"I was always glad when you grew out of your sarcastic phase," muttered Minerva.

"Oh, do I?" he asked. "That's disheartening."

"Ahem," interrupted Flitwick.

Remus conjured a high backed chair and took his own seat, giving the small professor his complete attention.

"We've been constructing a number of spells over the six weeks, and there are three that we believe might work," the Charms professor said importantly. "Of course, we must reduce the number to one, but I believe that can be accomplished in a matter of days."

"Before the solstice," Dumbledore said pointedly.

"Yes, before the solstice," agreed Flitwick. He frowned suspiciously. "And how do we know that will even work?"

"I have a reliable source," the Headmaster said vaguely.

Remus sighed. "Me," he told them. Minerva and Flitwick looked at him, startled. "At least, future me, though I don't know how I got the information." He went on to tell them about the words _five_ and _D_ along with the note about solstices and equinoxes.

Flitwick's eyes grew slightly fanatical. "But that's brilliant," he squeaked. "This almost certainly proves the theory of circular time! If we present this information to the Ministry then -"

"Then nothing," Dumbledore interrupted.

"But -"

"Filius, we cannot allow the Ministry to take Remus in for experiments," the Headmaster said firmly.

There was silence in the room while everyone digested this thought.

"So, it's settled," Remus said to break the tension. "June 21st I return to my time."

"Early morning would be best, I think," Dumbledore agreed.

The four nodded.

**-  
5  
-**

It was the last day of school, and the excitement over the summer holidays was palpable. Well, it would be palpable if Remus wasn't so sad to leave.

He wished the general mood could infect him. Then perhaps his return to the doom and gloom of his own time wouldn't be so hard. He had less than twenty-four hours here, and he'd give anything for more time. What he'd studied so avidly had now become his enemy.

The students were all milling around the courtyard and the grounds, waiting for the carriages to take them to the Hogsmeade train station. In Remus' time, half the students could see thestrals where others saw only air. He wondered how many people, like him, could see the skeletal horses.

Up ahead he saw four redheads, one of them Charlie and the other two the pair who'd nearly run him down. There was a fourth boy as well, and he watched the other three run wild. Charlie looked to be in charge of keeping the twins in line. Remus didn't envy him the task, seeing how wildly the pair was running around and nearly toppling trunks over. One of them had a wand, while the middle brother held his own and one other. The eldest Weasley seemed ready to snap.

But Remus wasn't interested in Charlie at the moment.

His eyes scanned the crowd for a head of unusually colored hair - unless Tonks was wearing her natural color, which he'd never be able to find in this crowd. Remus quite liked the mousy-brown color, but not today.

There! The pink color he'd first seen her wear shone in the sun.

Tonks was looking around curiously, as if she were hoping to catch sight of someone. Remus gave a little wave, and kept waving to draw her attention. When she saw him standing at the entrance of the empty corridor, her face lit up. A part of him lit up with her. Tonks made her way over to him, almost falling on her face twice as she stepped through the minefield of luggage. She really was a little clumsy.

Her smile as she reached him tore his heart a little. Remus didn't want to leave this girl, now more than ever. But today was the last day he'd spend in her world no matter how he felt about going back in time.

"I've something for you," she said.

"And I for you."

Remus took her hand (he resisted the urge to caress her skin) and lead her down the corridor to a small niche. Only someone passing directly in front of them would be able to see anything, and he always liked the privacy this concave provided.

They stood there awkwardly, her hand in his, neither of them able to think of what to do next.

Finally, Remus said, "You first."

Tonks blushed. She pulled her hand to herself and tugged a small box from her pocket. "It's a little thing," she mumbled. "Stupid, really."

"I'm sure it's not…" he trailed off after lifting the lid.

A small piece of moonstone, carved into the shape of a crescent moon, lay against dark blue velvet. Remus knew Tonks couldn't understand how much he loved the waning crescent moon, how it was his favorite part of the lunar cycle, because he'd never told her anything about his connection to the moon. Somehow she'd seen into him and picked the most beautiful thing he could have imagined. His chest constricted painfully.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Tonks said in a heartbroken voice. "You hate it."

"No," he told her hoarsely. "No, I don't hate it." He touched the tip of the crescent with one shaking finger.

"You don't?"

Remus shook his head. "Thank you," he said in little more than a whisper.

Tonks smiled up at him, eyes aglow.

He cleared his throat. "I like your hair today."

"Do you really?" she reached up and touched the bubblegum pink self-consciously. "I like it, but I worry people might think me too girlish if I wore it more often. It's silly, but I suppose I spend so much time worrying about what others think of me."

"You're seventeen," Remus answered. "That's how you're supposed to worry. If you didn't, you'd be extremely self-involved."

"Huh," said Tonks. "You've always got the strangest opinion on things."

He laughed. "I'd like to think I'm merely logical. Anyway, I like it because it's the first hair color I ever saw you with."

The air between them grew thick with tension. Remus couldn't stop staring at her, the dark brown and blue-flecked color of her eyes, the paleness of her skin… the softness of her lips. How he'd fallen so hard in two months wasn't hard to understand. Tonks was beautiful, and smart, and kept him laughing. She understood him more than he understood himself. He cared for her in ways he'd never cared for anyone before.

"You said…" Tonks cleared her throat. "You said you had something for me?" She was looking at him through enchanted, hopeful eyes.

He knew she'd fancied him right from the day they met, when she'd come over and introduced herself on a dare. He wouldn't be here by this time tomorrow, he reasoned. He'd never see her again, never run the risk of dealing with the fallout. It was alright. Remus reassured himself again and again while she waited. He pocketed the crescent moon.

"I do," he answered at last.

"Well? Is it something I'll have to pack away, because my trunk's full to the brim and…" she was rambling in her nervousness.

"Shhh," Remus whispered, and took her face in his hands. "Hush, Dora." His thumb caressed her cheek. "Hush, now."

And slowly, giving her as much time to pull away as he could possibly bear, Remus bent down and kissed her.

Tonks gasped the second their lips met, her mouth opening in… not surprise, he observed dimly. It was excitement she felt. He flicked his tongue in her mouth, tasting the candy she'd eaten earlier. Everything around them stopped as their lips moved together. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck and pull him closer, forcing him to step in. He didn't mind.

She sucked gently on his lower lip, and Remus groaned softly. He trailed one hand down so that his thumb touched one side of her neck and his fingers the other. He felt her every swallow and breath under his palm. Remus was losing himself to her, the kiss becoming more heated as their tongues met and mouths tried to taste more and more of each other. One of her hands ran down his back and up again. He trailed light kisses from her mouth to her neck, and she made a noise of pleasure.

"Remus," Dora breathed, and he nearly came undone. As wonderful as this moment was, there was the bittersweet knowledge that this was the first and only time he could taste her, feel her, smell her. When he arrived back home, he couldn't see her everyday, listen to her talk.

All his senses, drowning in her as they were, would suffer and starve in her absence.

Remus lowered the hand on her cheek down the length of her body to rest on her hip, and his other arm wrapped around her waist. Her body was flush against his now, and he reveled in every curve. Nymphadora Tonks was not a skinny girl, and she was not made of sharp edges and corners. She was touchable. At least for today, she was touchable.

He kissed her earlobe once, twice, before whispering, "So you don't forget me as quickly as that Weasley boy wants you to."

Dora let out a breathless laugh. "What Weasley boy?"

"I like the sound of that," he nearly growled.

What had happened to him, to make him so possessive? She should move on to someone her own age - to someone from her own time! But he wanted to keep on feeling her. He wanted all of her, to teach her body about love and pleasure.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

They reluctantly pulled apart. Her lips were bruised and red.

"I'll miss you," Dora whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek. Remus kissed the tear away.

"I know."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Probably not," he said sadly.

She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

Remus wished he had more control, because he couldn't help but to kiss her again. This time when her mouth opened, it was in a sob. He put a hand to the back of her neck, pressing her close, and she tangled her fingers in his hair.

"Don't go," Dora begged when they pulled apart. "Please don't go."

"It's time," he said. "I wish it wasn't."

"Be safe."

"Always am."

One last kiss, and they parted.

"You should go," Remus managed to say. "Don't want to miss the train."

Dora nodded. He got the distinct impression that if she spoke, the dams would break. He watched her walk back down the corridor, away from him and into the world she belonged. Her retreating form didn't once turn around, and Remus was grateful for this reprieve. If she'd turned, he might have grabbed her up and never let go.

The ache that had begun behind his eyes intensified, and Remus headed back to his office (for the last time) to take a shower and face his misery alone.

**-  
5  
-**

Remus went out to the grounds, his ratty old robes on again and the moonstone crescent lodged firmly in his right pocket.

He couldn't be sure what the laws were concerning items traveling with him. He, after all, had survived the journey with his clothing and wand intact, but could he bring something back instead of forward? Something that wasn't a part of him in the way personal possessions were?

Never mind that he felt more intrinsically connected to the moonstone piece than the clothes on his back. Never mind that it was the only thing he cared to call his own.

Minerva was there already, and so was Flitwick.

But what surprised Remus was Snape's presence. The Potions Master made a beeline for Remus, looking anxious and determined.

"Snape," he said awkwardly.

"Shut up," hissed Snape. He leaned in. "When you go back, _look out for the Potters_."

Remus stared. "Sorry?"

"You know what happens," his old school enemy continued in an undertone. "You know their fate. You have to change it. She has to - _they_ have to live."

Although Remus knew, had seen with his very eyes, that Snape and Lily had strange bond for the first five years of Hogwarts, he'd thought Snape's interest in Lily had ended when she took the surname of Potter. If Remus' childhood friend had married his boyhood enemy, he wouldn't forgive so easy.

But for the first time since he'd seen Snape upon arriving in this time, the man held something in his empty eyes. There was hope and desperation, and eternal longing for something that was long lost. Remus didn't have the heart to say anything, only nodded. With a movement on his face resembling a smile Snape took off towards the castle and left the proceedings. If there was one thing he could do with forgetting, it was the realization that Severus Snape had a heart, and it beat for Lily.

Remus walked forward again to meet the two professors. "Dumbledore isn't here yet?" he inquired.

"He'll be along in a minute," Minerva said. "There were a few thing he felt prudent to look over."

"This is quite exciting, isn't it?" Flitwick burst, a happy smile on his face. "Actually attempting time travel - except, you'll be the only one attempting it."

"Yeah," answered Remus, his voice a shade above dull. "Exciting."

Minerva eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing about why he was so melancholy. He knew that she knew about the kiss, though he wasn't exactly sure how, and he'd rather just pretend she was ignorant for the sake of his sanity.

They spent several minutes milling about, waiting for the Headmaster. Something was weighing on Remus' mind.

"You know, there's one thing I can't figure out," he said at last.

Flitwick looked up at him attentively. "Yes, Mr Lupin?"

"The notes I made for myself in _Time and Radical Manipulation_," Remus explained. "I know what _'solstices and equinoxes'_ are supposed to mean - they're the days I can travel home - but what are the words _'five'_ and _'D'_ telling me?"

"I suspect you'll find that out once you arrive back in your own time," Minerva said testily.

He sighed. "Don't be cross with me," he begged her.

"You made a foolish mistake."

"Could we not speak of it?"

"Fine."

The air was cold between them for a moment. Then Remus finally said, "Can you really begrudge me a moment of happiness?"

"No," Minerva answered. "But have you thought of how this might affect -"

"Are we ready?" the welcome interruption from Dumbledore effectively ended their conversation, which seemed to disappoint the watching Flitwick. He had clearly been hoping for some spot of gossip to pass along to the faculty. Remus wouldn't have wanted that sort of attention, whether he be here or not.

"Yes, we are," he told the Headmaster. _At least as ready as I'll ever be_, he added silently.

Dumbledore pulled out his wand. "It's similar to Apparating, I believe," he said. "As far as I understand it. Except, instead of focusing on _where_ you want to be, focus on _when._"

Remus nodded, a bubble of anxiety in his chest.

"Now, the spell I think will be most successful is this," Flitwick stepped in. "_Chromatem Desperses_."

"_Chromatem Desperses,_" Remus repeated carefully. "And we're sure that will work?"

"I just tested it in my office," said the Headmaster, "On a portrait. Phineas says the transition was odd, and to never do it again, but everything turned out fine."

"So… I suppose this is it," he said.

He looked around at the three professors, all of whom looked fresher and younger than ten years ago. He wanted to feel as they did, to be so relaxed, and without worry, but it would be another ten years before he could experience anything like this again.

Remus gave a half-hearted smile. "Thank you," he said. "I know this was time-consuming, and I truly didn't mean to be a bother."

Minerva shot him a severe look and then promptly burst into tears. "Merlin help me, I'll miss you!" she sobbed.

It was perhaps the most awkward moment of his life.

"I'll still be here," he reminded her warily. "Just not… twenty years old."

"I know!" she wailed.

Dumbledore's lips twitched.

Before anything else equally bizarre could happen, Remus raised his wand, thought of home and war and death, and said "_Chromatem Desperses_" in a forceful voice, feeling only slightly stupid as he stood there for a moment. Nothing was happening. And then -

The ground shifted beneath his feet again. Remus let out a sigh of relief and disappointment. He would be back to fighting for his life, his friends dying around him, the world going mad everywhere he looked. No basking in the sun, no lazy days reading a book, no Nymphadora Tonks.

The earth opened and he fell through.

_

* * *

_

Like I said, a significantly longer chapter. The next one might not be so long, but the third one definitely will be. Expect an update sometime around Christmas, probably a little before or a little after. That's the best I can promise. And please, review. I'd like to know whether or not I've pulled off time-travel authentically. At least, as authentically as time-travel can really get. There's always some suspension of disbelief when it comes to fics like these.

_To be clear, the quote at the beginning is more than just the technical "Remus doesn't know where he is" sort of thing, it's a very emotionally apt statement that follows him through time. Some readers may have already guessed what I'm implying; others will just have to find out alongside Remus. And I want to make sure everybody knows that I'm dearly devoted to Charlie Weasley. It's Remus, not me, who has the issues._

_Question to put in your review: Where do you think Remus will go from here, emotionally, chronologically, etc…?_

_See you all in a few weeks!_

_Please Review ^_^_


	3. Chapter 2: The Brilliant Summer

**Five**

Chapter 2

The Brilliant Summer

_A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words  
__become superfluous. -Ingrid Bergman_

The pavement was radiating heat from where he stood, and all around him wizards darted from shady awning to shady awning, wearing muggle clothes or light robes.

_Pavement?_

This was not - could not - be March 22nd, 1980. It was far too hot and much too lively. He saw that he stood under the awning of Flourish and Blot's, and understood he was in Diagon Alley. The where wasn't so difficult, but the _when_ was another matter altogether.

Had something gone wrong during the spell? He should have been sent back, and either he went too far back or not far back enough. It didn't make sense that this could happen. Remus checked his pockets; his wand was in his left hand, and the moonstone Dora gave him in his right pocket. Nothing of his person had changed. While considering what to do, he ran his fingers along the smooth edges of the crescent moon, turning it over and over in his hand.

There had to be some way to figure out his location in time. Remus looked around in the mirage and saw a _Daily Prophet_ vendor shouting his wares. Some people would stop and grab a paper, depositing a few knuts into the waiting bin.

He made his way over to the vendor.

"Excuse me," began Remus, "But could I just have a quick look at the headlines?"

"Five knuts," said the vendor. He was a wizard of medium height and balding head, and a robust belly. The top of his scalp was gleaming with sweat, and the vendor lifted a hand to wipe the moisture from his skin.

Remus cleared his throat. "I've no money on me," he said. "I just want to check the headlines."

"Five knuts for a paper," the vendor repeated.

"Look, I need to know the date," he said impatiently. When the vendor cast him a suspicious look, Remus added, "I've been traveling."

"July seventh," said the man.

He sighed. "What year?"

"Sorry?"

"What's the bloody year?"

The vendor edged slightly away from him. "I don't know what you're playing at, but if you're needing some help my cousin works at St. Mungo's -"

Remus gritted his teeth in an effort to restrain himself from launching at the pudgy man. He realized that, from an outsider's perspective, he sounded a bit mad, but he couldn't be bothered with stupid things like that while he was trying to figure out more important things.

"Just tell me the year," he growled.

Either the man was intimidated by him (highly likely), or he'd just realized that Remus wasn't mentally ill. Whichever it was, the vendor held up his copy of the _Prophet_ and pointed at the date line underneath the heading with one shaking finger.

Jul. 7th, 1991.

Fuck.

"Thank you," he mumbled to the vendor, and walked quickly away.

How had this happened? He'd backfired so completely in the spell that he'd launched forward over a year in time instead of backwards. Was the "_Chromatem_ _Desperses_" spell so horribly off the mark? No, no… because when Dumbledore had used it, the spell worked. It was him, Remus. He had done something wrong.

Remus rang his fingers through his hair and sighed. This was a difficult position. Here he had no money, no clothes, and no means of survival. His stay at Hogwarts had made everything relatively easy because he didn't have to worry about things like providing for himself. Clothes, food, and lodging were free. And he had the Wolfsbane Potion. Who knew how expensive that could be on the outside? And when was the full moon? Was it tonight? Tomorrow?

He let out a grunt of frustration.

There was another problem. Someone could recognize him as Remus Lupin, rather than his persona of Remus McGonagall. Someone who'd known him growing up, or knew him now. It was much more dangerous in Diagon Alley than he could have imagined. And the worst was he didn't even know who knew him. In eleven years he could have met a whole slew of people that could pick him out of a crowd.

All he could hope for was that his future self was a recluse. That and the spell would take immediate effect and send him back a decade. But it wasn't a solstice or equinox. There was absolutely nothing special about July 7th.

Or was there?

Maybe all these trips in time were for a purpose. Merlin, he hoped so. If this wasn't so random as it appeared, then it wasn't him or the spell, but time itself taking a hold.

That was an interesting thought. Time itself was intervening. Remus had never considered time to be a conscious thing, but after this bizarre turn of events anything was possible. Why, he could be bouncing through time in order to find out exactly what happened to make Sirius go bad in the past! He could be sent forward to learn the future in order to change it. He was a possible agent of time.

But… why him? Why would they choose someone whose life was dictated by the waxing and waning of the moon? Remus was hardly fit to do great works when nearly a week out of every month he was all but incapacitated.

All this heavy thought was causing him even more sweat than the day's heat could manage.

Remus pulled his mind away and glanced around at his surroundings. Now he was under the awning of Florean Fortesque's, and that wouldn't do at all. Too many people populated the Ice Cream Parlor for it to be any sort of safe place at all.

He wandered down Diagon Alley, passing Gringotts and the turn to Knockturn Alley. Again, he couldn't help but marvel at the difference time could make. Just like in Hogsmeade, all the shops were open and flourishing, people laughing and running in the street, teenagers snogging in alleyways where they thought no one could see them. It was all so alive.

It wasn't until he'd reached the end of the street, where the shops were met by residencies, that Remus realized exactly what he was looking for.

On the grimy window of the tiny junk shop, dubbed unimaginatively as The Buy and Sell, was a sign that read "Help Wanted."

This was perfect. Remus couldn't imagine anyone willingly stepping into this shop unless they were truly desperate, and most likely the owner was so desperate for work he'd even stoop to hire a werewolf. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding and headed to the door.

The inside was as dirty as the window had warned. Remus glanced around the small interior, keeping the disgust from his face with effort and heading to the desk. There sat the shop owner, staring into a cup of tea and sighing miserably. The man wrenched his head up to look at the intruder of his private misery.

"It says you're hiring?" Remus began hesitantly.

"Great," grunted the shop keeper. "A questioner. D'you finish ev'ry sentence wiv a question, then?"

"No."

The man raised his bushy eyebrows. "Alright. Wot's your name?"

"Remus. Remus McGonagall."

Surely Minerva wouldn't mind if he carried on using her surname, he reasoned, given how earlier today (at least to him it was earlier today) she'd nearly gone into hysterics as she bade him goodbye on the grounds. And it was only until September the twenty-first. What harm could there be?

The shop keeper pulled his head completely away from the teacup and frowned intently. "Can you do sums?"

"Yes."

"Carry fings?"

"Yes."

"Clean an' organize fings?"

"Yes."

"You plannin' to steal from me in th' middle of th' night?"

"Hadn't given it much thought," Remus replied dryly. Who on earth would steal from a junk shop? There was hardly anything valuable ten feet _away_ from The Buy and Sell.

The shop keeper sniffed. "You're 'ired. Ten sickles a day. Get to work."

"Sorry?"

"Get to work," he repeated. "Start by cleanin' out th' shop. I want ev'ryfing displayed." And with that, the shop keeper left the building.

Remus took a turn around the shop, eyeing each and every disgusting piece of junk, and considered briefly that ten sickles was hardly enough incentive to work for the obtuse older man. But, ten sickles was about the same as he'd get anywhere else if he said he was a werewolf, so he refrained from griping and set about to waving his wand and putting everything in its rightful place.

It was dull work, not that he'd expected anything less, but at least it was_ something_ to do while he waited for the equinox to roll around. It was either this or starve.

After a couple of hours, as the surfaces were beginning to shine in a way Remus wouldn't have considered possible earlier and his wand swished independent of his thought, the shop keeper came back and surveyed the improvements with an inscrutable expression. He finally let out a harsh laugh.

"You don't waste time, do you?"

It was an ironic question. As far as Remus was concerned, this entire jump into the future - again - was an entire waste of time. Unless some life changing event of epic proportions was to take place in the next two and a half months, he was really just spinning wheels.

But, in an effort to sound friendly, Remus gave a laugh and said, "I've always needed to keep my hands busy."

"You can leave in a couple o' hours," said the man. "If you wont."

"Alright," he said readily, "But I've a question first."

"Wot's that?"

"What's your name?"

The man started, as if he hadn't expected ever to reveal such personal information. Finally, as if wresting a particularly heavy burden from his chest, he said "Fletcher. Harridan Fletcher."

Remus raised an eyebrow and lowered his wand. "I know a Fletcher. Dodgy sort of fellow."

"Dung."

"Er…"

"Mundungus," corrected Harridan. "My good for nothin' cousin. 'E's a right pain in th' arse, that one. Gave 'im a job 'ere, but 'e kept nickin' all th' good stuff. And 'e couldn't do sums or no'fing." Mr Fletcher gave a mighty sniff and headed behind the counter, pulling out a book of records to examine.

Suddenly, his new boss was a lot less bizarre and a lot more amicable. Remus suppressed a smile at the rather single-minded description of the pilfering lout and raised his wand once more.

The next couple of hours passed slowly, but not quite so bitterly as before. When the two hour mark hit, and passed, Remus remained a little longer so as to reassure Harridan that he wasn't a wash-out or a slacker, and then bade Mr Fletcher goodbye after collecting his ten sickles for the day.

The hottest part of the day resides between three and five o'clock of the afternoon during the summer. It's the window of time when the heat is especially brutal, and Remus had just entered the zenith. He nearly gagged on the air.

When Remus had walked through Diagon Alley before landing in The Buy and Sell, the heat was moderate, though hot enough to create a small mirage. Now the temperature was above one hundred Fahrenheit degrees. Considering that Remus' robes, no matter how tattered and old they were, had been made to withstand the chills of winter, he was practically baking inside of his attire. He took a deep breath and stepped back under the awning and into the shade, stripping off his outer layers methodically.

"Remus?"

He stiffened and turned, expecting to see someone he knew (and then explain the convoluted time travel experience to), and blinked in surprise. Because while he knew this person well, the odds of meeting her again were so slim he hadn't even considered them.

It was Tonks, or Dora, or whatever he felt like calling her in the moment, and she was staring at him with a radiant face. Her hair - blonde that day, and cropped close to her skull - almost seemed to glow in the afternoon light, only enhancing the likewise shine of her white muggle sundress. Strapless sundress, he noted. And the heat caused her skin to exude sweat in trails that dropped down into her cleavage and along her neck…

For a moment, Remus nearly lost his constant composure.

As he looked her over (and over, and over again), Dora's expression melted from exuberance into hesitance and disappointment.

"Do you… not remember me?" she asked.

"Tonks!" he declared, perhaps too loudly. She blinked in surprise.

"Er, yeah."

Remus laughed awkwardly. "Sorry. No, of course I remember you."

How could he not? For Dora, it had been over a year since they'd kissed in the little niche at Hogwarts, as he bade her goodbye for what he thought was forever. She'd likely forgotten the color of his hair, and the shape of his nose, and all those things that time makes a person forget. But for Remus, it had been only yesterday, and everything about her was clear in his memory, and he had to reconcile the age she had acquired.

When he'd left, Nymphadora Tonks was of age, but she had not totally grown into her body. She was not yet completely rid of her childhood curves, but some of her lines had matured, and she was lovely. Remus knew this to be her true form, because it was the same as the one she'd worn at Hogwarts, and knew that if she wanted to she could make her body more advanced in age. The fact that she didn't affected him in many different ways.

"How have you been?" he asked her, simply for something to say.

"I… well, fine." Dora lifted a hand to her hair and touched it nervously.

"You look lovely," Remus reassured her. Then he had to stave off a blush when he realized what he'd said wasn't such a calming sentiment as he'd intended as she bit her lip and dropped her arm hastily.

She gave an awkward laugh. "Thank you, I suppose."

He took a step forward with care to remain in the shade. "I distinctly remember our conversations being much less awkward."

Some dam in her broke and this time Dora released a genuine laugh. "No, I was a rather chatty sort of bird, wasn't I?" She bore a large smile. "Merlin, looking back… you must have been going up the wall listening to me blather on about all my petty little problems."

In the time span of a year, she had not truly evolved from her state of self-doubt.

"You know how I feel about that," said Remus.

"Right, right… you don't like hearing me talk about my shortcomings and all that," she said with a dismissive flap of her hand. "I forgot."

"What are you doing here?"

"In Diagon Alley?"

"At the end of Diagon Alley. As I understand, it's not a common place to be," he answered slyly.

Dora grinned. "It is if you live just a block away."

"Do you, now?"

"Yeah," she told him. This seemed to be a great source of excitement for her. "Yeah… mum fronted me for the place. It's a small flat, really small, but it's my own and I've got privacy and all that. Just moved in last week, actually, once I left Hogwarts. Would you like to see it?"

Remus started in surprise. "Oh, sure, I'd love to," he replied, hardly believing this to be true.

It all seemed so surreal, that he would find such a ready confidant in Nymphadora Tonks the first jump through time and then wind up in the same street as her for his second time travel experience. He had the niggling thought that perhaps, just perhaps, this was not coincidence or whimsical chance.

He folded his outer robes in his arms and stepped into stride beside her, trying desperately to control his even breaths and mild reactions.

Before today Remus had only ever seen Dora in school robes and the occasional short skirt, which had been quite enough to catch his eye. Now, though, in her revealing muggle attire she was more alluring than ever before. If he so much as brushed her skin he might be undone completely. This was something he could not allow to happen. Remus didn't know if she had a boyfriend, and he couldn't do anything rash before finding such things out.

"When did you get back to England?" she asked him.

"Just today."

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"Not quite yet," Remus told her. He'd temporarily put that worry on hold, and now he played with the sickles in his pocket nervously.

Dora smiled at him. "You're welcome to my couch, if you like. It's a bit grubby, but at least it's a place to stay."

"I couldn't possibly-" he began.

"Yes, you could," she said. "We're still mates, aren't we? I'd be an awful sort of person if I didn't take you in."

Since he'd always struggled with looking a gift horse in the mouth, Remus did his very best to smile and take her offer graciously, though he felt uncomfortable about it. Generosity was not commonly extended to werewolves, and even though Dora didn't know of his condition it was a difficult habit to break.

"How did you do on your N.E.W.T.s?" Remus inquired.

"I think I botched my Arithmancy," she confessed, "But with everything else I think I did just fine so it's not a problem. I know for a fact - well, almost a fact - that I got an O in my Transfig exam, and I'm hoping the same for my Defense."

"That's fantastic."

"Thanks."

"And, er," he hated asking this question, "How's Charlie?"

Dora gave an almighty blush. "He's in Romania. He left just after exams to study dragons, and I don't expect him to be back for a year at least."

Remus wasn't sure what to say. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I know you two are close."

"Sorry, are you?" she teased.

"Perhaps not entirely," he admitted.

She laughed. "Here we are."

They stopped in front of a run down flat complex with about five storeys. It wasn't the classiest of places; the windows were for the most part as grimy as The Buy and Sell's had been before Remus cleaned them. He exchanged a look with Dora, who looked down and fiddled with the fabric of her dress nervously.

"I know it's not top class," she mumbled, "But at least it's mine."

"Tell me it's at least clean."

Dora snorted. "I forgot you're a neat freak."

"It's a failing of mine," he replied dryly.

"I'm not much of a cleaner, but it's no pigsty. I haven't lived in it long enough for it to be messy," she said.

He shrugged and nodded. "Anywhere out of the heat is good, I suppose. I trust you."

She smiled shyly and headed forward, opening the front door of the complex. Remus followed her up three flights of stairs in narrow halls. It was very difficult not to stare at Dora's bum, but out of respect he restrained himself. They climbed to a stretching hall and went down, stopping at the very last door on the right side of the corridor. The number read 312. Dora pulled out her wand and tapped the doorknob with a non-verbal spell, opening the door.

They stepped inside, and Remus surveyed the flat.

The living room was to the left, consisting of a frayed armchair and a lumpy couch. A door lay at the end of a short corridor, open and revealing a bed. He assumed her lavatory was inside the bedroom. To the right was the combination of kitchen and dining room, although calling the area a dining room was a bit generous. There was really just a small table with three chairs and a wilting vase of sunflowers.

Everything seemed clean, if not shabby. This was the condition most of Remus' things were in and he instantly felt at home.

"It's nice," Remus told her.

"Shut up."

"I'm serious," he said. "I like it."

Dora gave him a look. "You have odd taste."

He winked at her. "And don't I know it."

**-  
****5  
-**

The next morning, Remus awoke on the couch with his back mildly aching and the scent of oatmeal in his nostrils. He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked over at the kitchen to see Dora sitting at the small table. There was a bowl before her (and a glass of orange juice) and another in front of the seat across from her.

Remus rubbed his eyes and said hoarsely, "Good morning."

She snapped her head up, a spoonful of oatmeal half chewed in her mouth. Dora pulled down the grains, took a sip of orange juice, and then swallowed.

"Morning."

"That looked like an ordeal," he commented.

Dora shrugged. "You caught me off guard."

She still wore the ratty shirt of the night before, the name The Disarmers blazoned proudly on the black fabric. The plaid pyjama pants she had slung on her hips were rumpled now, the work of restless sleep. There were bags under her eyes.

He stood slowly and stretched, scratching his jaw lazily. It occurred to Remus then that he needed a shave, which he hadn't done the morning before since he believed himself to be going home and returning to the state in which he had left. And he needed to relieve himself.

"Would you mind if I used your bathroom?"

"You don't need to ask for permission," she told him once again. "You're living here now."

The description warmed him and frightened him. Without saying anything either way, Remus moved around the couch and headed through the small corridor to the bedroom. He glanced for a second at the unmade bed and swallowed. The bathroom lay just beyond and he slipped inside, shutting to door firmly behind and running a hand through his hair.

Being in the same flat as Dora, like this, was intoxicating and all sorts of dangerous. Not dangerous in the sense he'd hurt her or take advantage of her, but because the full moon was only a week away and she had no idea whatsoever of his condition. Remus knew he'd have to tell her eventually, though the prospect sickened him, and he knew that if he didn't say something soon he might crack from the guilt of deceiving her.

Remus sighed and headed to the toilet, dropping his fly. It wasn't something to be guilty about, he'd been told by both Sirius and James. Well, he'd rather think of it as something from James because then at least he knew it was genuine. His friends had always told him that being a werewolf was nothing to be ashamed of even though he was raised to believe otherwise. If Remus was going to be completely honest with himself, though (he shook himself dry) then he would admit lying to Dora was something he didn't want to do.

She had shared things with him that she didn't have to. Dora had told him everything about her life, holding back no secrets, and Remus was concealing two things from her. The fact that he was in fact not travelling across the world but through time, and he was lycanthrope.

As he washed his hands, Remus contemplated her reaction. She was a Metamorphmagus and used to reactions of fear and mistrust, but the prejudices surrounding werewolves was hardly the same. And Dora was also a member of a dark family, however estranged she might be, and could relate to the misconceptions surrounding his existence. Dora was uniquely qualified to accept him for what he was.

And yet…

And yet he was used to hiding himself from the people he cared about most. It had been Remus' curse for fifteen years, his curse to hide his curse. Just because he felt so wholly connected to one girl did not mean he had the power to make her understand him the way he wanted her to.

He went through the motions of shaving and brushing his teeth, going back and forth on the issue. Tell her, don't tell her. Remus might as well have a daisy in his hand, pulling off petals, for all he could make his mind up decisively. Dora might understand - she might not. She might accept him, or she might go running in the opposite direction. This wasn't a concern at Hogwarts because there he did not have to live with her and sleep on her couch.

By the time Remus had finished everything in the bathroom and exited again, Dora was in her room and making her bed with her wand lazily. She wore a spaghetti strap shirt and jean cut-offs, and her hair was a shock white pixie cut. He knew that style - she wore it the same day Remus had first realized his feelings ran deeper for her than he'd originally believed. He had to suppress a groan at the loveliness of her.

Dora grinned at him. "You look a mite fresher."

"I should, after a shave," he said with a laugh.

"Well, I'm off to work in a few minutes, but there's some oatmeal for you on the table," she told him. "Sorry I can't make much better."

"Maybe I'll cook for you," suggested Remus. "I've been told my culinary skills are commendable."

"How can I resist an offer like that?" Dora said brightly, and made to slip into the bathroom.

Remus grabbed her wrist lightly, and she blushed. "Thank you," he said softly. "You didn't have to go out of your way for me, but you did. That means a lot to me." For a moment Dora seemed ready to lean forward and kiss him (and he wished she would so very much), but then she pulled her arm from his and backed away.

"Of course I would," she told him. "I know we only… what I mean is… I consider you to be one of my best friends."

She moved into the bathroom and shut the door.

He headed to the kitchen and sat down to eat, considering what she said. Best friend? A year for her was enough time to form that feeling, but Remus had only known her for a few short months. He couldn't say anything of the sort no matter what their connection. He fancied her, yes, and wanted her badly, but best friends?

Perhaps, since she was younger and had gone through most her life without mind-numbing fear to bring her close to others, the feeling of friendship was different. Dora had a different life experience than him, a different time at Hogwarts, and it proved to be a larger difference than he'd originally imagined.

But Remus couldn't think about that. He hadn't the time to dwell on barriers.

"I'm off," she declared with a smile, emerging from the bathroom. "See you later, then?"

"Yeah, have a good day."

Dora gave him a wave and left the flat in somewhat of a hurry.

He watched her go and waited a few minutes in case she'd forgotten something before taking out his wand and Vanishing his oatmeal from existence, cringing at the lumpy, tasteless concoction. Remus would have to do something about her culinary skills - or rather, lack thereof.

Before he left the place himself, he checked his pockets for the ten sickles. He could only hope it was enough.

Remus left the flat and walked down past the residencies into Diagon Alley proper, passing The Buy and Sell in a quick walk. He'd come back later for it, of course, but there were things he needed to do first. The apothecary was at the very beginning of the street and he sped past the ice cream parlor especially hastily. Remus didn't want Dora to see him where he was going, even though he knew the truth should eventually surface. For now he was too much a coward to tell her.

And for that matter, he didn't even know if they had what he needed on this street. Diagon Alley, wonderful as it could be, was only the bright and sunny side of the Wizarding world, and Remus tread the line between this and the darker world. He was sincerely hoping he wouldn't have to take a turn down Knocturn Alley. For all that Remus could defend himself, he'd rather not risk the ordeal of getting beat in the first place.

The bell rang over the door when Remus stepped in, the shop mercifully devoid of other patrons.

"Come in, come in!" beckoned the cheerful, wizened old man. "What can I get you?"

"Er…"

"We've got a new batch of Veritaserum in today, Ministry grade! And supplies for all beginning Potioneers are stocked and waiting!"

"I need a potion," Remus said stiffly.

The old man practically beamed. "A potion! How grand! What can I get for you, m'boy?"

He was as tense as a tightrope now. "Wolfsbane."

The man's face fell. "Oh…"

"I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I've got no other time of the day I can do such things discreetly," Remus continued, although he was aware of the increasing fear from the old man. "I don't know how much you need monetarily, so that might be a problem."

"It's… it's seven sickles per cup," the shopkeeper was much less enthusiastic. "I've got some in the back."

Remus followed him into the back of the store, sorry to cause such alarm.

The old man went to a cauldron and dipped in a goblet. "Did you take some yesterday?"

"No; I only got into London yesterday."

"Hmm… I'll add some… there, that should make up for it."

Remus waited as some herb went into the goblet.

"You've taken this before?"

"Yes."

"No side effects?"

"No adverse side effects, no."

The old man's hand trembled as he passed the goblet over.

He wanted to say something to reassure the man he was no threat, but knew it was no good. Prejudice and fear were in control when someone learned he was a werewolf and most of the time it was all but useless to try to convince anyone otherwise. Besides, others of his kind _were_ to be feared, and taking that caution away from someone might prove dangerous.

"Thank you," he gagged once the drink was gone. Remus passed over seven sickles from his pocket.

"Make sure you come back every day this week," the old man warned.

"I'll be here."

Though, he considered as he left the shop and hurried back to The Buy and Sell, that could come off as more of a threat than a promise.

**-  
5  
-**

The week went by much the same as it started.

Every morning, he and Dora would eat breakfast, sometimes together, sometimes not. Remus would occasionally make the meal so as to avoid the awful oatmeal she provided. Then he'd skip out of the flat (sometimes she would already be gone) and head to the apothecary for his daily draft of Wolfsbane Potion.

In a perfect world, the old apothecary would come to realize that Remus was not like the other werewolves that came in for the potion, and would soften to him over time. This was not the case since the world was hardly perfect. Every time Remus stepped foot into the shop he felt a wave of guilt for scaring the otherwise cheerful man, but it couldn't be helped. He was what he was and there was no denying this to the old man.

After his draft he trudged back to The Buy and Sell, taking care to avoid being seen from any windows of the ice cream parlor along his way. Remus worked for Mr Fletcher for about eight hours and collected his ten sickles.

Once he'd gotten enough money Remus stepped into the secondhand shop and purchased an extra set of robes and trousers. He would come back later, he decided, when he had more money, but for now he was really only gaining seven sickles each day and it was just impractical to live off of that. Without Dora putting him up, Remus highly doubted he would be in any sort of living situation. And though the oatmeal she made was awful it _was_ sustenance.

Evening were nice and quiet.

Dora often picked up a book and read in the musty armchair, curled up in a small, adorable ball. Remus was usually one to read a good book in the evenings, but instead he would walk up and down the residence area, reveling in the alone time.

Remus wasn't avoiding Dora, exactly, but he did like being alone. He was by nature a solitary man and needed those rare moments without the constant presence of another being. This had been a difficultly for his friends to accept at first back at school.

The air was hot and hard to breathe in the beginning of the evenings, turning pleasant only after the sun set. He liked this time best, when there was no sun but the moon didn't show itself for a while. Twilight, the moments between day and night, was only surpassed by its opposite in the morning for the most peaceful time of all. Remus occasionally woke early enough to sit and exist with the blue-grey light before the sun rose, but it rose so early in the summer he didn't bother with it now.

Also at night was the waxing moon, mocking him with its increasing roundness. He could see the outline of the dark side during the twilight moments, and each night it faded away just a little more. No one but a werewolf could tell the minute differences in the moon's shape.

To excuse himself, Remus told Dora he'd be seeing a friend for a few days. This time he wanted to regain his strength before she saw him again. When Dora had seen him after the full moon he had been exhausted and worn, unable to think straight.

When he told her this, a look of upset flashed across her features for a few seconds.

He didn't know why, nor did he know how to find out.

Mr Fletcher had heard a similar story, except Remus changed "friend" to "ailing relative" to ease the upset of a vacationing employee. Harridan had sniffed at him angrily, but allowed for the small break in his work schedule.

The transformation was much of the same. Remus used the Shrieking Shack, knowing Hogwarts to be abandoned and many of the villagers vacationing. There was pain, and the awfulness of it all did not change, but he did not harm himself and he did not feel so great a need to harm others.

And when it was over, he slept for an entire day and night. Remus might have stayed longer if he did not have job to get back to. As it was, he didn't want to be gone so long from Dora. Everything about him missed her when they were parted, and that worried him.

**-  
5  
-**

The hottest day of the summer so far began on a Saturday morning and extended its heat well into the night. Remus could scarcely breathe the air, even inside The Buy and Sell. Mr Fletcher had finally admitted defeat a little after one o'clock and sent Remus home with the admission that no one would willingly be out shopping when they could instead be in their homes and enjoying the benefits of a nice Cooling Charm. Except, of course, the admission was made in a thick Cockney accent and with simpler words.

Remus trudged along in the shade, hating the pavement for gleaming at him so brightly. He wasn't exactly excited about sitting at home all day, holding his wand at himself and blowing cold air, biding his time until Dora came home.

But she was already home.

Dora, he discovered upon entering the flat, was in the kitchen with a tank and pair of shorts, her usual attire. In one hand she held an ice cube to the back of her neck. In the other she was using her wand to emit a light mist. Remus choked on his swallow.

"You're back early," she noted, and frowned. "Are you alright?"

"Just fine," he managed to gasp. "Just bloody… fine."

She shrugged. "I suppose the entire street's closing down," she said. "Florean sent me home because even though an ice cream parlor's obviously the busiest place right now there weren't enough people to warrant all the staff he had on today. I'd rather be in the parlor though, 'cause it's so cold."

"I'm sure it is," said Remus. "That's a job I have to envy for the summer."

"I hope I can keep it past summer, too," Dora confided. "It's just been really great working there, and they serve hot chocolates in the winter which I'll probably need after school."

"You sent in your app yet?"

"No, I'm going to the post first thing tomorrow. I should really get myself an owl."

Remus headed into the kitchen area just past where she stood and grabbed an ice cube from the cold bucket, running it along his forehead wearily.

"Good thinking with these," he commended.

"I've been known to have a thought now and then."

"Yes, I suspected for a while now."

"Only problem is, they keep melting," she complained, and reached into the bucket for a pair of cubes. Dora rubbed them across her collarbone, back and forth, drawing the lines of water on her skin in little waves, spirals, the droplets falling into her shirt. Remus stared, though he wanted to tear his eyes away. It was the heat, he reminded himself again. The heat was making everything seem more so than it already was. Merlin, he wanted her…

He finally managed to wrest his gaze away and headed to the couch. Remus tugged off his robes and was left standing in a thin t-shirt and trousers. Instantly he felt cooler, more at ease in his skin. Dora might have been onto something with all her muggle clothing. In fact, muggles themselves seemed to be very smart when it came to the whether, probably from lack of Cooling Charms. Dressing sensibly didn't always mean dressing conservatively after all.

When Remus turned to go back into the kitchen for a glass of water, he saw Dora reaching her arm like a contortionist to get her back cool by way of ice cube. Needless to say, she was failing miserably and he suppressed his laugh.

"You look rather silly," he said honestly.

"Shut up," she snapped, though without true bite in her voice.

"I'm just saying…" Remus pulled out a glass and poured water from the tap while she continued her arm twists.

He drank his water and considered her, in all her foolish glory. Dora tried twisting her arm one way, and then another, a scrunched, frustrated look on her face while she did so. If it were anyone else, or he were not so attracted to her, Remus wouldn't have for a second considered any part of her antics sexy. But it was Dora, and he did consider her that way, and no matter the hilarity of the moment he had to admit there was something about her that turned him on.

At last he took pity on her.

"Stop that," he said gently.

"Why?" she demanded in a sulking tone.

"Because you'll break your neck, that's why."

"Will not."

"Excuse me; are you willing to bet your life on that?"

She paused. "Not entirely."

Remus smirked. "Then would you please put your arms down?"

Dora gave him a glare but complied without comment. She squeezed the ice cube in her hand and then ran her fingers through her hair (bubble gum pink, just the way he liked it) to wet her scalp. She then made to reach for her wand, but Remus stepped before her and grabbed another cube from the bucket.

"Turn around," he instructed.

Her eyes got wide, but she did so, facing away from him.

He took a deep breath and placed his free palm on her shoulder. In his other hand, his fingers grasped the solid water and began to draw lazy loops on her back, occasionally feeling her bare skin beneath the pads of his fingertips. Everything about her was smooth and soft and he sighed lightly.

But Dora didn't seem to be anywhere close to sighing. In fact, were she any tenser he might have checked to see if she'd been put under _Petrificus Totalus_ since he'd first touched her. There was an intoxicating power in knowing that his hands could affect her so thoroughly, and he wanted more… but in the same thought, if she was so very tense then springing himself on her was hardly the smart thing to do. And Remus had to be the responsible, smart one here.

"That feels good," Dora whispered.

"Glad to hear it."

Were his lungs growing smaller? He fought to breathe normally.

"You should do this professionally."

"What, rub people down?"

Her breath caught for a moment; he felt it. Remus moved the ice cube up to her neck and dropped the hand on her shoulder to her waist.

"Yeah."

"I don't think very many people would enjoy it."

Loops of water, over and across her shoulders. The ice cube ran completely wet, and he grabbed another. Remus felt his hand growing numb but didn't care.

"Have you seen yourself?"

"Are you implying I'm attractive, Nymphadora Tonks?"

"It's Tonks. Or Dora."

"Of course it is."

Remus noticed that Dora's body had moved fractionally closer to his own. His body reacted to the intense proximity.

"But seriously, you could have a great career."

"I'll rephrase, then; I would not enjoy giving this experience to very many people."

"Why not?"

"Well, there are the hairy backs, and the back acne, and the men who would want me to do this as well -" Dora shook with laughter. He shrugged. "And besides, it's entirely too personal an act. I'd only ever do this for someone I valued."

That quieted her, and she remained quiet as he dared to trail the ice cube across her chest, just skimming the tops of her breasts. Remus knew he was being reckless but was beginning not to care at all. He noticed that her body was a hairs' breath away from his now, and he closed that divide. Their forms pressed together. Everywhere there was contact he felt his body burn with need and barely-concealed lust. Dora herself was trembling but she did not push him away.

"Remus?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember the day you left last year?"

"Yes."

"Do you…" Dora inhaled shakily. "Never mind."

Remus threw all caution to the wind and dropped his hand lower, lower, to circle the melting cube around her breast once, and then again, and then to the other. He felt her breathing quicken, sharpen, become gasps and heavy pants as he went back and forth.

"What?" he prompted with a whisper in her ear.

"Do you remember what you said to me?" she breathed.

"Which part? When I said I didn't want you to forget me, or that I didn't want to leave?"

"Both."

He broke.

Abandoning all pretense of restraint, Remus wrapped an arm around her stomach and turned her to face him, faster than a heartbeat. He kissed her roughly on the mouth and she met his intensity as her arms wrapped firmly (desperately) around his neck.

Remus gripped her hips and lifted her up to sit on the kitchen counter. The ice cube in his hand (small as it had grown) fell to the floor in a careless clatter as his hands went all over her back, touching her skin, squeezing her lightly, scraping across the soft surfaces and curves. Her knees opened and he moved closer to her. Even through her shorts Remus could feel the heat radiating from between her legs and he pressed even further into her embrace.

Dora had to bend down now to kiss him, and her hands cradled his face. She teased his lower lip between her teeth. Merlin, where had she learned to do that?

He didn't want to know, he just wanted to feel her.

Her breath was hot against his face as their tongues met and moved together. Remus held her hips again, groaning loudly as she made a thrust against him in her want. Dora was so terribly unaware of her sexuality, unaware that every movement aroused him more and more so that by the time she made the same thrust he had begun to harden and grow in his trousers. She parted from the kiss with a loud noise of alarm.

"Oh," she panted, and stared at the place where their legs met. "I didn't mean… is that…"

"Yes," Remus answered in a low voice.

"_Oh_," she said again. Dora then burst into nervous giggles, shaking against him.

A small part of him (the part most commonly known as pride) bristled at her laughter, but the rest of him knew she was just nervous and unused to feeling anything between her legs. This at least reassured him, because if Dora was this surprised then Charlie couldn't have done very much damage in his absence.

He inched his fingers up from her hips and touched the skin beneath her tank, effectively ending her hysterics.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, and ran her hands through his hair.

"No," he said in a hoarse voice, "Don't be. I like that you're nervous. I like that no one has had you before." And his fingers went higher, higher, touching her ribs, touching the base of her breasts, finding her hardened nipples with his thumbs. "I like everything about you." He pressed his thumbs down lightly.

She bucked into him.

"Remus," she started breathlessly.

"What?" he leaned forward and kissed the hollow of her neck.

"I…" Dora's train of thought seemed to be fading away. "I want you."

He looked up quickly and caught the acute blush on her cheeks. No, it was spreading from just her cheeks to her forehead and her neck, and every part of her face was bright red with humiliation and shame. The color was gone soon, morphed away, but there was no denying its existence - or her confession.

"Dora -" Remus began.

"No, I know what you're going to say," she cut him off. "You're going to tell me that we should wait and that I'm too young, and you're much older than me so it'd be like taking advantage and for all intents and purposes we haven't known each other very long so it's all much to fast, but Remus, I've been wanting you to… to - I've imagined something like this for a year now and now that you're here… and if you say no I might just _die_ -"

Remus leaned forward and shut up her up in the best way he knew how. Their bodies entwined for a few moments, lost in the ecstasy and heat.

He broke away and rested his forehead upon her chest. "I'm not sure what to do," he admitted.

"But… I thought you'd -"

"What I mean is I've never been with a virgin before."

The word hung teasingly above them. _Virgin_. To some it was the ultimate prize but all Remus could think was that he didn't want to hurt her, as he knew for girls it could be painful to lose one's hymen, and he'd only ever been with someone showing _him_ the ropes. He had no idea of what to do for all that he liked that she was entirely his.

His?

Dora placed a hand under his chin. "I trust you."

Those three little words held more weight in his decision than they really should have. If she trusted him, he really couldn't do anything stupid to muck it up. Remus inwardly cursed himself and forced restraint upon his body, most of which was clamoring loudly for him to just have his way with her already.

"Look," he said, and met her eyes, "I'm probably an idiot for saying this, because when a bloke's got this beautiful girl asking him to have at her there really should be no question, but I haven't been completely honest with you about several things and I'd be a shit person if I didn't say them before anything more happens between us." His hands had made their way back to holding her hips lightly, no longer in dangerous territory. Or at least, less dangerous.

"Tell me later," she insisted.

"It's some rather important information."

"Later."

Her hand dropped and boldly touched him. Remus swelled a little under her innocent fingers.

"Dora -"

"Don't you dare."

"I have to."

"I won't listen."

"You've got to -"

And she used his technique against him, kissing him fiercely and running her fingers all over his swelling part. Remus gave in and released a few desperate thrusts to which she responded with some inexperienced grinds of her own (he realized dimly that his was not part of his mission plan but Dora was a very difficult woman to resist), and soon they were just about making love in the flat's tiny kitchen with their clothes on.

Well, not all their clothes…

Remus grabbed the hem of her tank and pulled up, parting from her lips for a moment to yank the soft material off her completely. He threw the shirt on the floor and touched her bared skin with enthusiastic abandon. She felt so good, with her body moving in earnest against his -

He stopped them again.

"Why?" Dora whined.

"Why? Because I'm not popping your cherry in a kitchen, that's why."

"Couldn't you -"

"Don't be tacky."

"I'm not."

"Let me think," he demanded, but most of his blood was _not_ rushing anywhere near his head.

"There's a bedroom not very far away."

"I'm aware of that."

He let out a sigh and finally (very, _very_ reluctantly) backed away from her tempting body. The sight that greeted him from a distance wasn't any less appealing. Chest heaving, green sheer bra exposed, nipples straining against the fabric, knees open - Remus was truly an idiot. He could kick himself.

Air returned to him as he sat down at one of the dining table chairs. "Dora," he said hesitantly, "It's a conversation that can't wait until later."

"Are you always this particular?" she demanded, crossing her legs and arms.

"Yes, but you knew that."

Dora leaned backwards against the cabinets lining the walls. "Remus, did I… do something wrong?" This came out very meekly.

The idea was so absurd he nearly laughed. "No - no! How on earth - no. You did nothing wrong."

"Then why…"

"Because," Remus tried to explain, "If we… if I made love to you before you knew all the facts you might hate me afterwards. You might hate yourself. I don't want you to remember your first time with revulsion. Can you understand that?"

"I suppose," she mumbled, and then reached over into that dratted bucket of ice to pull out another cube. Dora traced it all over her body, dipping down in between her breasts, leaving no curve untouched. He followed this exercise hungrily with his eyes and found his mouth had gone quite dry.

He cleared his throat.

"If you're trying to tempt me past the point of reason then congratulations, you've very nearly succeeded. Now please stop."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then do me a favor, if you don't mind."

Reluctantly she placed the ice on the counter beside her.

"So," prompted Dora, "Tell me what you've got to."

"It's a mood killer," Remus warned.

Her face fell. "Now you're starting to scare me."

"Perhaps we should go sit on the couch -"

"No."

He closed his eyes and prayed to whatever deity would take him that Dora wouldn't hate him after he told her what he was. He'd done this so few times he had no baseline for reaction. James, Sirius and Peter had approached him, figuring it out for themselves. Snape had seen for himself. Lily had learned after joining the Order, and so had the rest of the Order upon his arrival. Meghan Walsh he'd told, and their flowering relationship had croaked and died shortly after.

Remus kneaded his forehead distractedly. "It's… difficult to explain." Or rather, he wasn't keen on explaining. The non rational part of him - most of him, at that moment - was screaming for Dora and telling his mind that it was making a horrible mistake. It could wait; she wouldn't care.

But of course she would care. Whether or not she cared about what he was, Remus had lied. That warranted caring.

"When I left last week to visit some friends," he began, "I wasn't really visiting friends."

"Merlin's pants!" Dora burst out, looking horrified.

He frowned. "What?"

"I knew it!" and then she became subdued. "I bloody knew it."

"Knew what?"

"That you were visiting a girl," said Dora.

"A... sorry?" Remus was thrown.

She looked at her hands and, in typical Dora fashion, commenced babbling. "Well, I assumed at first - but with the way you are with women it'd be no surprise to anyone but me. I mean, I know you fancy me just a little or else this… _thing_ between us wouldn't have just happened, but I always thought there'd be no way for you to travel all the time and not be seeing people when you got to certain places and I really should have seen this coming -"

Remus could only stare. "What on earth are you talking about?" he managed, completely flabbergasted.

Dora looked up. "You and the girl you saw last week."

"The girl I… what? No! No, I didn't see anyone," he told her. Was that what she thought of him? Keeping a string of women in every country? The idea sickened him.

"So…"

"So, that's hardly what I was going to say… I don't know if I _can_ say it, but it's really a matter of _should_…" Remus trailed off.

She waited and he could feel the impatience radiating off her, as cloying as the heat outside.

"Do you check the lunar cycle?" he asked awkwardly.

"The lunar cycle?" Dora raised her eyebrows slightly in the confusion. "Really?"

"Do you?"

"No, of course not," she said with a too-vehement shake of her head. "Why do you ask?"

"Because if you had checked," he said cautiously, "You would have noticed I was gone the night of a full moon."

Dora shrugged. "What does that matter?"

He could tell, though, that she was only playing dim. Remus saw the understanding sinking in, though she tried to fight it. He felt a stab of pity for the denial she was attempting to access, wishing he didn't have to shatter her comfortable world.

"I'm a -"

"No."

"I'm a werewolf."

"No!"

"Yes."

She was on her feet now. "No! You can't be!"

"I am." Remus felt the two small words corrode his mouth.

"But… but you're _Remus!_" Dora argued. She was a sight, standing there in shorts and a bra only, panic and confusion and betrayal on her face. "You just can't…"

"I'm sorry."

She turned and put her hands to her eyes.

Remus wondered if he should go over there and hold her, give comfort somehow, but what if that was the least comforting thing he could do. So he sat there and waited for a sign that she did not hate him for what he was.

Then she turned, and her eyes were blurry and over bright.

"I've got to go," said Dora. Her voice was on the precipice of hysteria as she grabbed her discarded shirt and pulled it over her head. "I've got to go."

She walked quickly out of the flat and all but slammed the door behind her. Remus stood and walked over to the bucket and stared in at the melting ice, wondering how something so simple could have triggered such an intense episode.

His stomach heaved and he bent over the sink, expelling everything. Expunging his meals wasn't a rare thing for Remus; he'd used to do it after every full moon, and then with the war in his time it wasn't uncommon to see someone read a _Daily Prophet _and excuse themselves to a toilet. But the fact that he'd thrown up once with each time jump (at least, once so far) was something to consider. Perhaps he was going about this thing all wrong.

But no, it was the nerves that had caused him to react this way. If she couldn't… if she didn't…

What was he going to do without her?

Remus hadn't realized until Dora fled the building how badly he'd wanted everything to work out in his favor. He cared for her, he wanted her, he was intrinsically connected to her in ways he couldn't even begin to explain. It just couldn't be coincidence that he'd ended up in her life twice. There was surely some method to this madness.

He washed his mouth out and began to pace the flat. His legs grew weary as the hours passed, but she did not come back. He sat on the couch and stared expectantly at the door, but she did not come back. He stretched out tentatively, ready to jump up at any minute for her arrival, but the door remained untouched. Slowly the summer sky grew dark, almost as if it had been forced against its will, and he waited.

This was so obviously a bad idea. Remus remembered when he'd sat Meghan Walsh down in fifth year and explained what it was that he got up to every month. He'd thought himself in love with Meghan; she was his first true girlfriend, and they'd been together for nearly four months when he'd decided to come clean.

Although she hadn't been so upset as Dora, Remus actually preferred the current reaction. Meghan's face wasn't shocked but disgusted by his very being. He told her the story of his bite, and how he was only a child, and she was only disgusted. She felt no sympathy or empathy for his suffering as a little boy. Remus then explained he'd never desired to hurt anyone, and he always worked to lock himself away.

But no, she could care less. Even though Remus had taken her on a date that night to Madam Puddifoots, a place which Remus hated yet Meghan absolutely adored. They talked and flirted and snogged, and Remus laid out a blanket for a moonlit (crescent moon waxing) picnic. Everything was supposed to be the height of romantic gesture as he bared his darkest secret. James had insisted honesty was the best policy - something he'd never been so good at himself - and Remus took the plunge.

The whole time he'd revealed this secret to his girlfriend Remus had kept hoping that she would suddenly understand that he was the same person she was falling in love with the whole time, that he was no different from the Remus Lupin of before. When he'd said this, though, the expression of total revulsion had stopped him short. He'd understood then that Meghan would never love a monster like him, and even if she would she was hardly capable of it.

It was a miracle she said nothing to the general public. James and Sirius had done something, of that he was sure, because if it were up to Meghan Walsh everyone on the planet would know of his condition by now.

So by comparison, denial and upset were highly preferable.

Then again, the state of his anxiety was reaching critical levels without knowing one way or the other. Was she cursing his name (the name of Remus McGonagall, traveler of continents) to every open ear? Was she considering letting him in? No, he shouldn't hope for that. He didn't dare hope for that.

Except he did dare.

Remus looked over at the door again, willing Dora to come through and put his mind at ease.

What if she wanted him to leave?

He would if she asked. Remus would do anything for her if she asked him to, and he would understand if she wanted him out of the apartment. But he hadn't thought of what to do if she did. Where would he sleep? Perhaps Harridan Fletcher would put him up for a little while, but when Dora had found him everything had fallen into place so perfectly.

Even in this short while, Dora's dinky little flat had become as much of a home as his flat with Forrest. More so, in fact. Leaving would be so heart-wrenching, almost as much as leaving Dora herself. What on earth had he been thinking? Why had he ruined something so pure and innocent with a stupid need to be _honest_ of all things? James was wrong about honesty being the best policy with Meghan; clearly it was a sign that he should just stop sharing important and life-changing things.

Remus felt sleep finally overcoming his anxiety, and he blinked except when his eyes opened again the light in the flat was darker. And when he blinked again there was hardly any light to be seen. He nearly dozed off once more, but the doorknob turned and he sat up hastily as Dora entered the kitchen.

With a wave of his wand the flat was lit and he blinked in the harsh light. So did she, and Remus realized her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks rubbed raw. Dora started when she saw him sitting there and recoiled. His chest contracted in pain.

"Should I leave?" he asked her quietly.

"No," said Dora in a scratchy voice. "Don't."

"I've upset you," Remus said unnecessarily.

She wiped at her eyes tiredly. "I just need a few days to… to understand. I mean, this isn't something you hear all the time and I - I need time."

"But you don't want me to leave."

"No, I don't want you to leave."

"I'm sorry," he said for lack of anything else.

Dora shook her head. "Don't be. I - I'm glad you at least could tell me the truth." She turned and went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her lightly. Remus stared at that door now, and it came to him that he'd always been staring at one door or another when it came to Dora, hoping that she'd come through.

**-  
5  
-**

The next couple of days passed very slowly for him. The flat was an exercise in walking on eggshells for the pair of them; Dora was avoiding him without actually avoiding him, and Remus was careful not to say anything that might upset her or really do anything that might push her away.

Naturally, the most interesting part of the day was when Remus was at The Buy and Sell.

Mr Fletcher was actually somewhat of an amusing man, someone James and Sirius would have loved to know back in their Hogwarts days. He turned out to be a bit of a trickster, one day setting a little trap for Remus that had him dangling upside down the moment he walked into the shop. Mr Fletcher had laughed and laughed, holding his shaking robust belly as Remus desperately tried to right himself.

Eventually, the man had let him down and it was business as usual.

"You like Tourney?" Mr Fletcher asked on the first afternoon after Remus' confession to Dora.

Remus was, as he did so often and so _well_, brooding about his life. "Beg pardon?" he asked, confused.

"Tourney," Harridan repeated. "The band, the two girls wiv' the hair."

"You mean Journey?" Remus said cautiously. He only knew the muggle band, and it was understandable for someone to confuse Steve Perry with a woman. Peter had found Journey to be particularly enjoyable, though Remus didn't share his old friend's sentiments.

Mr Fletcher glared. "Tourney," he snapped. "Wiv' a 'T'." He put an extra emphasis on the letter.

"I've never heard them," confessed Remus.

"Never 'eard of Tourney? Where've you bin livin', then? Oh, right, you travel. Well shut up an' lis'en."

And he turned on the WWN to a live concert. It was only just beginning, and Remus was introduced to Damia Greely and Rowan Homer, two witches who got a band together in the late eighties. If Remus hadn't skipped over an entire decade he might have heard of these two by now.

Their sound wasn't so awful. In fact, it got better as he listened to it more.

Remus was a huge Disarmers fan, the music he and Sirius had always preferred over the more mainstream Weird Sisters. Not that he didn't enjoy a good 'Sisters now and then, but nothing could take the place of The Disarmers for him. That being said, Tourney was steadily moving up the ranks of his favorite music.

The one woman (Damia, Harridan told him) had a very gravelly alto voice. At first this had deterred him; initially the sound was off-putting and strange. After a while he'd grown accustomed and found himself looking forward to her solos. Rowan sang completely different in a high operatic soprano. That voice didn't belong in a punk-pop environment, yet she brought together all the odd elements of Tourney's music with her clear vocals.

And the sound…

Mr Fletcher explained that Tourney didn't use any sort of string instrument. No guitars, no violins, no harps or bass. To compensate for this absence they used all sorts of things like west African drums, harmonicas, xylophones, trumpets, and of course a piano.

But the interesting thing was how mainstream it all sounded. Remus could easily picture thousands of wizards across the country tuning in to hear Tourney's live concert. This was no obscure band like The Disarmers, this was music for multiple generations. At one point Remus caught himself dancing around and promptly stopped before anyone could see him.

Customers coming in and out sometimes sang along to the lyrics or remarked on the sold out tickets.

By the end of his shift, Remus was a converted Tourney man. It was shame he'd have to wait so long for them to debut in his own timeline.

The next day, Mr Fletcher brought in his favorite album of Tourney and Remus spent a few minutes fixing up the antiquated record player in the shop. He'd found it in the back and had to conjure a needle, but it was worth it.

"So, you feelin' better now?" called Harridan over the sounds of Damia and Rowan describing a beautiful Sunday in Hogsmeade.

"What do you mean?" Remus replied.

"_And then we set out a picnic and we laid in the sun_

_We watched birds fly away till there was only one_

_And then the clouds came to greet us but we spelled them away_

_And Summoned the sun back for the rest of the day…_"

Mr Fletcher chuckled. "You was mopin' wiv' th' best of 'em before," he said.

"I was not."

"Was too. Don' lie."

"_Oh, Sunday in Hogsmeade, out for a walk_

_My heart in your hand, and my hand on your - shhh!_

_Passing by Zonko's, stopping for ale,_

_There's no better way to spend a day_

_Than Sunday in Hogsmeade!_"

"Maybe a little," Remus admitted, "But that's entirely irrelevant."

"If you say so," said Mr Fletcher with a knowing smirk.

Remus concentrated very carefully on the books before him, tallying up sums and avoiding the very nosy shopkeeper. But he couldn't help but think ("_Sunday, Sunday, Sunday in Hogsmeade!_") about exactly what he'd gotten himself into.

She wouldn't tell anyone about him. Remus knew that much. However, any chance he'd had with this girl had evaporated the moment he'd revealed himself. At least she hadn't kicked him out or gone running, but from now on they would be in a no-touching sort of friendship. He could respect that, if it came down to it.

The loss of Dora, though, that was hard to reconcile. Remus hadn't felt so good in a long time, and he kept replaying that moment between them in the kitchen with alternate scenarios, ones in which he wasn't so much of a complete idiot and he didn't tell her about anything important. Some of the playbacks were downright perverted, but Remus never claimed to be a saint. On the whole it was nicer to dwell in his head about what could have been instead of the reality of what was.

**-  
5  
-**

"I don't care," Dora announced when she got home from work.

Remus glanced up from the book he was flipping through at her words. He did not move from his recline on the couch. "Come again?"

"I've thought about it - a lot - and I don't care if you're a werewolf," she elaborated while dropping her bags on the dining table.

He sat up straight. "You… don't care? Just like that?" This moment was almost surreal and he didn't know what to make of it. Remus wished he could put a pause on everything and try to regain his bearings because he couldn't understand

"Just like that?"

"If you don't mind me asking, how?"

"The thing is," Dora said, "When I think about you, and understand me here that's a lot more of the time than I'd usually care to admit, I don't think about how you look. I mean, sometimes I do, but for the most part when you're in my mind I see how you're always sweet to me, and how funny you can be and how smart, and I just decided that I don't care what you look like at any time of the lunar cycle because that's not how I know you."

Something in the way she spoke indicated that she was not, as she stated, entirely over the revelation of his condition. Perhaps it was the rambling, or the contradicting sentences, but Remus got the distinct impression she was nervous around him.

He stayed very still, so as not to alarm her. "And you… are fine with everything?"

"I really am."

"You're sure," pressed Remus. He set the book down.

Dora frowned and headed towards him. "I wouldn't tell you if I wasn't."

"And you're telling me… what, exactly?" he asked.

She walked around the couch and came to stand before him, and her whole body was shaking in nerves. Remus watched her apprehensively. He felt he was like an animal waiting for some great predator to either lie down or strike, though the comparison was somewhat ironic. For the longest time she just stood there as if waiting for something.

Then she lifted a knee and quite abruptly Dora was straddling his lap. Her hands were on either side of his head, and she was looking into his eyes.

"I'm telling you that I want you to stay here for as long as you want," she breathed. "I'm telling you that I'm alright. And that I want you."

"You're blushing again."

"Can you blame me?"

Remus lifted a hand and touched her face. "No."

"I…" she looked down. "I feel these things, when I'm around you. I don't exactly understand what it is I'm feeling because it's never happened to me before, but I'm hoping you can explain it to me." By now she was playing absently with her hair (turquoise and shoulder length with fringe).

"Er, well, you see, when one reaches physical maturity and finds a compatible person to whom they are physically attracted -" he really wished he could shut up, but found he couldn't. In the end it was Dora who managed to make him stop with a finger to his lips.

"I didn't mean in so many words."

"Oh. _Oh._"

Why the hell was he feeling so completely nervous right now? Perhaps because, out of all his relationships in the past, this was the only one that had any chance of lasting past the big reveal. And the very strange thing was, this relationship was a part of his future. Did that mean something for him?

But to be completely honest, Remus knew his anxiety was about this girl, this young woman, opening herself to him in total vulnerability. Even knowing what she did, this beautiful presence before him was willing to expose every part of herself. And that level of trust and affection moved him across worlds. He almost didn't know if he could take from her what she was offering. Remus held himself still and waited for… he didn't know what he was waiting for.

Dora ran one hand down his chest. "You're going to say no, aren't you."

He shook his head. "No."

"Wait, 'no, you don't want me' or 'no, you're not saying no'?"

"No, I'm not saying no."

"So you do…"

"I'm not sure," Remus answered quietly.

She looked hurt. "You're not sure about me?"

"Dora… it's not about you," he tried to explain. "I'm scared."

Silence.

She stared. "You're… really?"

He let out a heavy breath. "There is so much about you… you're so alive and whole… and I'm broken in so many ways… I don't believe I'm good enough for you. And that you would want me anyway - I can't understand it and it makes me so happy, and all of that… well, I'm not usually in a position to be happy."

Dora kissed him so lightly he barely felt it, at least physically. Inside he felt every spark between them. "Would it be so bad?"

"What?"

"To be happy?"

"No, that's not bad, I'm just unused to it."

"So… if you were to ignore all that," she said, "And let yourself have a good time for once, what would you be doing right now?"

Remus hid a laugh at her overt implication. "Well, I'll tell you what I wouldn't be doing right now."

"And what's that?"

"I wouldn't be in this position."

She looked hurt. "Why not?"

"Because I'd be taking you out to dinner. That is, if I had enough money. And then I'd have us take a walk around London and look into some shop windows, and I'd pretend I had enough money to buy you something nice, and then we'd grab a cup of hot chocolate from a street vendor which I actually can afford. And at the end of the night, maybe, just _maybe_, if I were playing the part of a gentleman enough, I would kiss you goodnight."

Remus somewhat undermined his outline of a proper date by caressing her upper thighs.

She placed her hands over his. "I don't think I want a proper gentleman."

"That's too bad, because I happen to be a very proper gentleman."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"I don't believe you."

He raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

Dora leaned forward to whisper in his ear; he suspected she was hiding yet another blush. "The way you touch me doesn't feel very proper."

Remus felt himself relinquishing control over his determination to wait, and wait, and wait some more. For someone so inexperienced, Dora was learning the art of seduction extremely fast. Either that or she was just very good at reading him. Both were probably true.

He sighed and reached up to touch her face. "You're something else."

"That's what my mother always says," she confided.

For a moment Remus was going to tell her that he knew Andromeda. Sirius had introduced them once, shortly after she'd married Ted Tonks. Remus had just turned thirteen, and Andromeda's belly had been swollen with… with Dora. Remus felt a little sick then. He'd touched her before she was born, in her mother's stomach.

No, he couldn't think like that. He couldn't imagine her as a little child when she was so clearly an adult.

Their relationship wasn't about - couldn't _be_ about - time. It couldn't be about the convoluted age differences between them, or the relativity of their experiences. With Dora, it was all about the connection between them that went deeper than skin or the date on the calendar.

He smiled warmly at her. "Your mother is very right."

"Well, Remus McGonagall," said Dora playfully, "What should we do now?"

"I don't know," he teased, "I was really enjoying my book until you interrupted me."

She gave his arm a light slap. "You're cold."

"Far from it."

"What book?"

Remus picked it up and showed her the cover. "It's a muggle book," he explained. "So it's not quite accurate in all its facts, but it's a brilliant story nonetheless. My mother never let me read Wizarding books when I was growing up because werewolves were usually some sort of villain, so these were the things I read."

"That was caring of her," said Dora.

"Hardly; she didn't want me to get any dark ideas," Remus corrected dryly.

At her uncomfortable expression, he added, "She was a good woman, and she did the best she could, but my mother was hardly perfect."

Dora nodded. "_The Last Unicorn,_" she read the title aloud. "Sounds interesting enough. Would you read it to me?"

He chuckled at this. "Not while you're sitting like that. Come on, climb off now - yes, there you go… alright." She slid into place on the couch beside him and Remus put his arm around her shoulders. He lowered them down to lie against the couch, her back against his chest and his arms wrapped around her.

"This is nice," she whispered.

Remus kissed her shoulder. "You're comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Alright." He cleared his throat and opened the book. "Chapter One. _The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea._

"_She did not look anything like a horned horse…_"

As he read to Dora from the book of his childhood (the book he'd read under covers in the middle of the night), he felt a presence of home.

**-  
5  
-**

"I saw Hagrid today," Dora commented.

He blinked, unable to keep his gaze from her. All of his thoughts seemed to be floating away, and he had to work to hear her question. "Sorry?"

"Hagrid," she repeated. "Tall, hairy, Hogwarts gamekeeper with a penchant for dragons?"

"Right," he agreed dumbly.

"It was right around noon," continued Dora. "I suppose he had someone with him because he ordered two sundaes. Or maybe they were both for him, I don't know. Seemed right pleased about something, but I haven't figured it out yet."

"Sure."

Dora gave him a funny look. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Sorry, I was distracted."

Her expression changed from bemused to embarrassed, her cheeks coloring. She turned away and wiped at some unseen spot on the kitchen counter. "I wish I could stop blushing when you say things like that to me. It's so awful."

Remus chuckled. "I imagine you'll stop once you engage in some unruly behavior."

"Yes," she consented, "But no one seems to want to do anything about that."

Unless he was very much mistaken, Dora was actually trying to seduce him. Again. Clearly he was giving her too much time to practice. Remus stood and moved to stand behind her, winding his arms around her stomach and stopping her pointless cleaning. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her cheek. Her breath became shallow.

He whispered in her ear, "And I suppose you want me to offer some sort of opportunity to enjoy such activities? Because I was under the impression you needed some time and space. But if you've changed your mind…" he finished that question with a soft kiss to her temple.

"I thought I made myself clear last night," she murmured.

"Clear? Sorry, no," Remus teased.

"I said…" another blush blossomed on her face. "I told you I wanted you. Isn't that enough?"

"Not enough, my dear. Not nearly enough."

"You're so cruel."

"I just want to make sure that I'm understanding you properly."

Dora gave a nervous laugh. "Remus…"

But after that she didn't speak much more, because Remus was running hands up and down her front, caressing her stomach and breasts, her upper thighs and even a light brush between those thighs. Her breaths came out in hot gasps and she pressed herself against him.

"Why are we always in the kitchen when these things happen?" she managed to ask.

He laughed at that. "It's a mystery."

"Well, I'm not staying here," she said determinedly, and grabbed one of his wandering hands. With a tentative smile, Dora led him out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Remus could feel her tremble under his palm but something told him not to argue with her resolve. And quite truthfully he was tired of arguing.

She stopped once they'd reached the bed. "I'm not really sure what to do now," she admitted.

Remus raised his eyebrows.

"I mean, I know what happens," Dora said (there was that blush again), "But there's this whole point A to point B I'm not entirely figuring out what I should be doing here, and I suppose you know that because you've done this before -"

He kissed her, effectively ending her babbling. "This is usually how it starts," he murmured when he pulled away.

"That makes sense."

"Shhh," he told her, and kissed her again.

There was an almost surrealistic feel to this moment. Remus was aware of what was happening and how, and he felt every single touch and caress, every flick of her tongue, but the moment had an unreal, dreamlike quality he couldn't shake. He wished he could be fully in the here and now, to experience everything in the way he was meant to. Perhaps in time that would be the case.

With that same unreal awareness, Remus trailed his hands to her hips and began to lift her shirt, little by little. Dora sighed when they parted for that brief second.

He felt every curve of her body. He unclasped her bra, let the material slide off her in slow stages. Her breasts were shaking with her nervous tremors, though her nipples were hard with want. Even though she'd been the one to initiate this, it was obvious Dora was terrified.

Remus broke their increasingly passionate and rested his forehead to hers. "I feel like I should say something inane and cliché, such as 'do you trust me' or 'we don't have to do this,' but I already know your answers," he said quietly. "I just want you to know I'm not comparing you to anyone else."

"I know," she murmured; however, he could read a touch of relief in her voice.

"Just making sure."

"Don't worry about me."

"Sorry, not an option."

"Then…" she put her hands on his chest and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Then please, don't keep stopping."

The invitation was really all he needed. Remus hadn't the restraint to stop now. For all that Dora had taken them into her bedroom, he'd been the one to start things between them. And not just today, but when everything actually started with that damn ice bucket. She probably didn't realize how badly he wanted her and how infinitely difficult it was for him to hold back, and quite honestly he was so tired of that restraint.

Dora pushed his shirt off his shoulders and to the floor. She brushed his shoulders with her palms. He bent to kiss her neck.

Light brushes of his lips, down from her neck, to taste the swell of her breasts. She moaned in surprised pleasure.

A small scrape of his teeth against her tender skin.

A sigh.

He could feel himself hardening in his trousers, but did nothing.

She found some of his scars, traced their lines gently.

Everything fell into place for him, then.

Remus reached down (slowly) to unbutton her jean shorts and pushed them off her hips. Her trembling grew into shakes and he had to stop himself for a moment, holding her tight against his body and running a soothing hand up and down her back. She quieted.

"Please," she breathed in his ear, and broke from him to sit on the bed beseechingly.

He groaned at the sight and bent to kiss her.

Slowly, he guided her back, scooting them from the edge of the bed to the middle, wrapping his arm around her waist, easing her into place beneath him.

And then he sat up and began fumbling with his belt buckle. Dora reached up to help him with clumsy fingers. And then - gone - she tugged at the top of his trousers - she pulled. In her haste and inexperience she tugged down his boxers as well, and stared at him in shock.

Remus couldn't help but to laugh, and her blush ran freely.

"Shut up," she demanded.

"I'm sorry," he said, and tried to choke away his laughter.

Dora turned away. "I don't mean to be so silly," she said. Unless he was mistaken, Remus heard tears threatening to come out in her voice.

"No, don't -" he leaned forward. "It's my fault, I'm very sorry." Another laugh threatened, and he added, "It's really not about you, I just remembered something funny. My friend, he stole one of his girlfriend's romance novels to make fun of and he happened to turn to a page quite similar to what's happening right now."

"So…" Dora looked back at him.

"So I'm not laughing at you," he assured her. "Especially since you're not saying something ridiculous."

"It's so big," she mocked shrilly.

He laughed again, and she joined in.

"There, see? I knew you were sensible."

She nodded and explored the lines of his face with her fingers. "I've just never seen… I mean, it's all sort of - _completely_ new to me."

Remus shucked off his trousers entirely. "I believe we've established this."

"What now?" she asked shyly.

"Now?" he pondered for a moment. "Now I'm going to see if I can stop you from feeling so tense."

"How - oh, my…"

Remus peeled off her knickers slowly, his progress somewhat impeded by her knees clamping together. He had to ease them apart to pull the fabric down completely and as soon as he dropped her knickers on the floor her legs were stuck together again.

He noted with some interest that she didn't shave away her pubic hair, the way he was used to seeing. It didn't matter to him but… it _was_ interesting to wonder if she could simply morph away whatever she wanted. What a thought.

With cautious hands, Remus managed to get her knees a little separated again.

She shook still.

He kissed her gently on the mouth. "Just let go," he instructed softly. "I've got you."

"Mm-hmm."

"Dora, take a deep breath in," he told her. She did. "Now, let it out slowly. And again, breathe in… and out slowly. Once more… there you go."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be."

"But I -"

Remus raised one hand to put a finger over her lips. "It's alright. Just…"

And he finally felt her legs relax and give way to his hand. As slowly as he could manage, Remus trailed his fingers up her inner thigh to touch the place between. Her breathing grew rapid and shallow, and she squirmed below him. He hardened further at her motions.

Dora's face slowly changed from nervous and surprised to arousal and want as he played with that little bundle of nerves, eased one finger in and out of her, two fingers. She grew wet and wanting as he continued, her shaking lessening, slowing.

Her hips moved in concert to his ministrations.

Her hands clenched at the bedspread.

And he couldn't bear the wait any longer.

"Alright," he whispered. "I need you to be calm." He pulled his hand away.

"That's a bit impossible," Dora said in a strained voice.

"Breathe."

"Sod all with the breathing!"

He snorted. "Very well. I'm sorry, but this might hurt."

When she opened her mouth to speak, Remus lifted her hips with both his hands and slowly - gently as he could manage - began to slide into her.

Dora's sounds of want became noises of discomfort, then whimpers of pain.

Remus held himself still though he wanted to do the opposite. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing through the pain. He waited. Her sounds grew softer and less vehement. He waited. Dora gave a weak thrust in a silent request.

He complied, moving in and out of her - she felt so amazing - she did the same - he grew more aggressive - she let out a cry of ecstasy.

Her movements became quick and hurried, frenzied almost. Remus grabbed her hips to stop her.

"Slow down, my dear," he said. "We've got time."

Wordlessly, she nodded. There was sweat on her brow.

Remus wanted to lose himself in her, to let loose and _feel_ everything.

Now wasn't the time.

Instead, he taught her body the difference between a virgin and a woman who's made love, just as he'd told her that day at Hogwarts when they'd lain under the shade of the tree together and he'd first realized how deep he'd fallen.

And it occurred to him then that he loved her, loved every single flaw and blemish, every babbling sentence, loved her beauty and talent and spirit, and her determination to accept him no matter what he was. He loved her so entirely he didn't know how it had escaped his notice before.

He loved her more than he thought he could love anything in this world.

**-  
5  
-**

When Remus woke that next morning, it was not on a couch but with his bare body wrapped around Dora's in her bed.

She was still asleep, and he was more than content to watch her breathe in and out. The revelation that he loved her still stunned him, though in a wonderful way. Remus thought he was in love with Meghan Walsh, but he hadn't been. He thought he'd loved Adrianne Fawcett, the woman who relieved him of his virginity, and perhaps he had loved her in a way. Holly Crane he'd never loved though he'd certainly desired her. Dorcas he'd merely fancied.

Dora, though, he felt as if she were half of him, and as girlish and silly as it was to admit Remus didn't feel quite right unless he was with her. It was enough to simply be in her presence, though he would admit to wanting more if the question was posed.

He watched her wake and stretch, and then pull the covers over her body hastily. Dora began to crawl out of bed and suddenly he didn't want to her leave.

As she began to stand, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back down on top of him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Remus asked.

She giggled and blushed at the sound. "To shower."

"It can wait a little," he said. "After all, neither of us need go anywhere for a while."

Dora couldn't seem to look him in the eye, and he noticed this.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said sincerely. "I'm just… that was… last night -"

"You enjoyed yourself," Remus concluded. He let his hands roam freely up and down her body.

"I did."

He touched her face. "Dora, there's no need to be embarrassed."

She sighed. "I'm not embarrassed, exactly, I'm… I mean, it felt so amazing and I want to have sex with you again and again now because I can't imagine life without that, and I'm wondering why I didn't coerce you into doing this the last time you visited, except I feel all sorts of strange since I've always been told it's boys my age who are all hormone driven and girls have more restraint, and the only reason I'm not trying to go again - clearly you're ready - is because I'm all sore."

Remus always enjoyed a good Dora ramble. "There's no need to be ashamed," he told her. "It's your body and you can feel however you like. Personally, I've always enjoyed women with a sexual appetite." He'd intended this last part as a joke, but her face grew hesitant.

"Did I… did I _do_ alright?" she asked.

He sighed. "Remember when I said I wasn't comparing you? I meant that."

Dora bit her lip, unknowingly enticing. "You had to correct me."

"I'd call it coaching," he disagreed. "Dora, in all honesty, I wouldn't want you to change anything. It's not a matter skill or tricks or talent; I'm more interested in your body doing what it wants to do. That's far more exciting than some flexible maneuvers."

"Really?"

"Is this the face of a liar?"

She kissed him.

"Just so we're clear," he informed her, "I would not have slept with a Hogwarts sixth year no matter what age she was."

Dora gave him a mock glare. "Spoilsport."

"I really am," Remus said dryly.

"I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because I'm a bloody good kisser."

"There's that."

"And the sex."

"True."

"And because you're entirely too bizarre for anyone else," he added playfully.

Dora smacked him.

"In all seriousness, though," Remus continued, "I have a question to ask, and it's probably the worst timing in the world, but I'm just wondering why you waited to have sex. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, because it really isn't, but I was so sure you and Charlie would… I mean, what happened there?"

He'd never been more reluctant to ask a question, but there was a large and undeniable part of him that wanted to know, no matter what the answer might entail. The unspoken conflict between him and the Weasley boy had been very much present during Remus' stay in 1990, and now that Charlie was suddenly in the heart of Europe and out of the conflict he was curious to know what happened in between then and now. For Remus it had been but a day. For everyone else, an entire year had passed.

"Hmm," commented Dora, and eased herself off him. She rolled to her side and propped herself up on one elbow to face him.

Remus did the same.

"It's a bit complicated," she began. "I mean, I told you that Charlie and I were probably heading towards all that romantic shit last year, and in a way we sort of did. I think what happened began just before you kissed me that day. During finals we'd discussed the possibility of meeting up during the summer, and you've got to understand here I thought you weren't interested in me the way I was in you. Sometimes you acted like you were, but other times…

"Anyway, I was all set to get over you and get back to whatever it was between me and Charlie, except then you kissed me and I was so bloody confused. There I was, fancying my best mate and then this other bloke who just came along out of nowhere. With Charlie I had a pretty safe bet, right? I knew him, he was going to stick around, I didn't have to worry about when I'd see him next. And I think if you hadn't kissed me it wouldn't be such a big deal.

"But you did, which was fantastic by the way, so then I had this whole problem because I knew you felt the same way. You made it pretty clear, I think. Unless I'm wrong, but I'm tired of all that second guessing so yeah, you felt the same way. Me n' Charlie still met up over summer hols, though, and he kissed me too, and that was almost as fantastic. At the time I was still moping over you and all torn up, and that sort of certainty was exactly what I needed, so we decided to be a couple and see how that worked.

"And it worked pretty well for a time. Everyone was happy we were together. They'd all been betting on it for years and if I didn't still have feelings for you - if I hadn't met you - then it wouldn't be such a problem. But see, as things went on I just stopped feeling that way about him so much.

"Well, I still fancied him that way, but I was falling more in love with _you_," Dora said, and then stopped for a moment as a blush blossomed. Remus waited. "You know what I mean. It was stupid, since you weren't even there, but it just got clearer and clearer to me that I couldn't be with anyone else while I still had feelings for you. And besides it was all sorts of icky after a bit when Charlie and I kissed. Er, not icky exactly, just… there wasn't anything special."

Remus waited for her to continue, but it seemed she was done.

He was very lightheaded. "You were falling in love with me."

"Yeah," Dora admitted softly.

Remus kissed her mouth, her cheeks and eyelids and forehead. He moved to her neck, her shoulder and then her breasts, and he stayed there.

"You - fantastic - girl," he said between kisses. "You amazing woman."

"Come again?" she asked, sounding both confused and breathless.

"What do you think _I've_ been doing?" said Remus, laughing in joy. "How forgettable do you believe yourself to be?"

"You mean…"

"Yes!"

"You -"

"I love you," he told her.

"I know."

Remus paused and glanced up.

Dora flushed. "What I mean is, you said that last night."

He frowned. "I did?"

"If you didn't mean to say it -"

"No, no," he brushed away her concern. "I just hadn't realized I'd said that aloud."

She smiled at him, and he resumed his worship of her body. Remus took care not to do anything too sexual as he was unwilling to carry through with anything while she was still sore from the activities of the night before, but to love and be loved is an intoxicating feeling and he couldn't lay there and do nothing.

After a time, Dora lightly eased him away and went to take a shower. At first she tried to wrap a sheet around herself, but Remus convinced her that do such a thing would only be an insult to him. He wasn't sure she bought his excuse, but didn't particularly care.

**-  
5  
-**

For a while, this was his life. He'd go to work, spend time with Mr Fletcher, count the minutes until he arrived back at the flat. The second both of them were home Remus would teach Dora about what her body could do. They'd talk of their days for a while.

Then they'd get up and shower (sometimes together) and get dinner ready. They'd talk about themselves, play around, make each other laugh. Sometimes they went out walking just like Remus said they should, getting ice cream every so often and see who could get more ingredients loaded onto their plain vanilla sugar cone. They embraced the height of innocence as well as the most sexual of activities and the balance felt so serene.

When they came home, they might make love again if they weren't too spent. Remus often read _The Last Unicorn_ to her and she would drift off to sleep in his arms.

He'd never been more happy in his entire life.

But there was a looming worry that Remus didn't want to speak of, though he knew he should; the full moon was fast approaching. Interestingly enough, it was Dora who breached this discussion the morning before he was to get his first Wolfsbane Potion draft.

"What are you going to do for this month?" she asked him in bed.

He didn't understand to what she was referring at first.

"I was thinking more of the same," he said.

"I meant for the full moon."

Remus froze. "Well, I hadn't thought about it too much," he said casually. "But I'll probably go to the Shrieking Shack. That's where I went while I was in Hogwarts. And I went there last month without any trouble."

"Hang on…" Dora propped herself up on her elbow and faced him. "Is that why it's called the Shrieking Shack? I thought it was named that in the early seventies."

Damn her Auror mind.

"It was," he said evasively. "If Dumbledore let one werewolf into the school, it stands to reason there might have been others."

Thankfully, she bought his flimsy excuse, and the matter wasn't discussed until the night before, when he bid her goodbye for the next few days and Apparated to Hogsmeade.

As it turned out, Dora was a blessing during his entire transformation.

Remus felt it when his body began to shift. His arms and legs cracked and popped, his bones grew and his muscles and skin stretched, and he was about to scream before realizing he didn't want to alert anyone that a werewolf was using the shack again. Those in the know might come to question his future - present - self.

So he thought of Dora, and the beauty of her smile and the luxury of her body. He thought of these things while fur sprouted painfully from his nose and cheeks and forehead, and he dwelled on her lips as his ribs rippled and contorted beneath his skin. Remus concentrated only on her as the blinding pain ripped through every part of him, concentrated on the happiness he'd felt while his teeth distended from his gums and bled.

His fingers curled into claws, and then his hands and feet into paws, and his knees snapped backward (he bit his lip and drew blood with his fangs to keep from crying out) and he imagined everything he would do with Dora once this was over - his snout twitched - his back ruptured as a tail grew -

But he thought of her, because his mind was his own.

And when the night had passed and he slumbered after the equally difficult transition back to human, Remus got up on shaking legs and went back to her.

Dora's face when he walked through the door was filled with relief and sadness, and he went to her and he kissed her, and they found themselves on the couch, too eager to walk all the way to the bed, and he took comfort in her, whispering again and again that he loved her.

His life went back to happiness after that, and Remus was glad someone as wonderful as she existed.

**-  
5  
-**

There was an owl in the kitchen. True, there was an owl in the kitchen every morning to deliver the _Daily Prophet_, but this particular owl looked friendly and loved, owned by someone rather than used by an impartial newspaper delivery service. It stared at him with bright, critical eyes.

Remus walked over and reached for the letter in the owl's beak, but the tawny flapped its wings at him to keep him away. He went for the letter again and the owl raised a leg with a very clear intention of clawing his hand.

He was wise enough to concede defeat, and instead examined the _Daily Prophet_ while he and the owl both waited for Dora to wake up.

There were a few articles on Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, and a certain recent scandal involving leaked papers of - from what Remus could see - very little consequence. From the pictures he gathered that Fudge was a nice enough man, if not particularly impressive. The political battle occurring in his own timeline sprang to mind, and he thought idly that Cornelius Fudge would have very little success convincing people in 1980 that he could lead the Wizarding world.

Again, it was an indication of how different things could become over a decade. While Fudge was hardly a leader for wartime, in peace he represented everything the magical folk wanted to experience, and everything they wanted to forget.

One article did catch his attention, though, and for less innocuous reasons.

"Investigations into Gringotts Break-in Continue," the title read.

Remus felt a little chill run down his spine. A break-in at Gringotts wasn't something to sneeze at on its own, but the fact that an ongoing investigation was needed sat very wrong in his stomach. He read the article carefully.

It was times like these, times when something wasn't entirely placid in the world, that Remus' well-worn battle instincts showed. He'd spent all of his Hogwarts years trying to piece together the chaos outside the castle through _Daily Prophet_ articles like many of his fellow students, and the practice carried on after he left school. It was habit to comb through the words and find the meaning underneath, scrutinizing an event for anything sinister.

From what he could tell, something was wrong in this time, though most people wouldn't know it. The whole temperament of the world around him was light and relaxed. But how could people be relaxed, how could anyone be so at ease, when someone had broken into the most secure place in the world and escaped without incident?

He was reassured that whatever was intended to be stolen had already been removed, but there was still a worry to be had.

Why hadn't he paid attention to the first article detailing the break-in? What had been so distracting that he wouldn't read the _Daily Prophet_ and realize a dark wizard - an unknown, extremely powerful dark wizard - was running loose?

Then he checked the date of the break-in, and the day the story broke, and the answer was painfully obvious.

On that day, August 1st, he and Dora had made love for the first time. And the next morning his mind had hardly been on affairs of the world. It was understandable, though hardly forgivable, that he would be so uninvolved in his surroundings.

Remus knew this was not his time, and the affairs of this time were not his to worry over, but he couldn't help thinking time had sent him to here and now for a reason. And while he believed almost wholeheartedly at this point that reason was Dora, perhaps there was something else, something important. If he allowed himself to be absent and inattentive he might miss something he needed to know.

And though it was stupid, even awful, for a moment he blamed Dora for distracting him.

The knowledge that he could blame her for something he had no control over sickened him. Dora could claim responsibility for several things, but in this she played no part.

No, he couldn't place the fault on her shoulders for any longer than the initial impulse because that rested with him alone.

Another owl flew in through the open window. This was a barn owl, looking rather self-important and carrying a letter from the Ministry on one leg. The barn owl stuck out its leg for Remus, and when he lifted away the envelope it flew off again.

He knew what this letter was. It was Dora's fate on a piece of parchment. It would either tell her she had been accepted into the Auror Academy and could pursue her dream, or it would inform her she should find employment elsewhere. There was no question in his mind to what the answer would be, but he didn't open it. She was so self-deprecating sometimes; he thought he could benefit from finding out directly that the Academy would take her.

Love had a funny way of turning her accomplishments into matters of pride for him, and her failures as a source of sadness.

The pair of them were linked together so closely now - he didn't like to think of them parting.

In fact, the thought was so wholly painful he pushed it away.

Remus was just folding up the _Daily Prophet_ when Dora trudged out of her bedroom. Her eyes were bleary and her hair natural today. She had no shift today and had declared the night before that she would sleep in until noon. Clearly, she had not.

He smiled at her warmly. "Good morning."

"I hate all sunshine," she informed him. "And singing birds."

"What about adorable baby animals?"

"Them too. They should all die in Fiendfyre."

"Aren't you cheerful this morning?" Remus said, suppressing a laugh.

Dora sat down in the chair to his right miserably, slumping her head on her arms. "I want to murder everyone and everything - except you, obviously."

"Oh, obviously," he agreed. "Is there something I can do to make your day a bit better?"

"Fiendfyre," was all she mumbled.

"I'd considered telling you that you've two letters today - one from the Ministry and one from a rather obtuse owl."

Her head shot up and her hands scrambled for the Ministry letter. Remus passed it over, smiling so hard he couldn't contain it. He couldn't wait to see her expression when she read the words telling her she was accepted to the Auror Academy. She was pulling off the seal now, taking the parchment out and unfolding it -

She bit her lip. "I didn't get in."

Remus felt his heart drop at the same time his whole face fell. How could they have not accepted her?

"That's just not possible," he managed to say. "Surely, it's a mistake. They must have sent you the wrong letter, or messed up the application…" he trailed off, unable to articulate his extreme disbelief. He'd never even _seen_ her use any spells, he just assumed because her conviction was so strong.

What if she was really awful at defensive spells? What if she had no aptitude for being an Auror and that's why they rejected her? A Metamorphmagus, while being rare and extraordinary, did not automatically insure magical ability.

No, he'd seen her N.E.W.T.s and Dora had secured an O in every subject she'd taken. She was a smart, capable, hardworking witch and if the Auror Academy didn't accept her Remus should march right down to the Ministry and demand they reexamine her application because there was no plausible reason for her not to get in.

He looked up to tell her this and saw a smile growing on her lips.

"That was too funny," she said.

"You little brat," scolded Remus, but his smile and tone of relief made his words entirely unconvincing. "Don't scare me like that. I actually believed you!"

"Then we know I'll be good for undercover work."

Remus snorted. "I'm not entirely sure that's a good thing."

"Of course it is," she said, waving her hand dismissively. It was then she caught sight of the waiting owl.

A most peculiar expression crossed her face, and he watched it with a wariness he hadn't expected. Dora looked at the owl with eyes of familiarity and longing, and when she stretched out her hand the bird hopped over to her eagerly. It extended the leg with the letter and waited patiently for her to remove it. And when Dora had pulled the letter off, the owl flew to perch on a top shelf in the kitchen as if it had been there before. So why had Remus never seen it?

He watched as she unfolded the letter and began to read. Her eyes were transfixed to the page and a curious, delighted little smile hung on her lips. Remus saw her fingers caress the edges of the parchment and occasionally tracing words, and that slimy, disgusting jealousy inside him raised its head in angered alarm.

Because he knew whom that letter was from. He'd suspected as soon as the owl refused to let him touch the envelope because there was no need for an owl to be so specific unless it was intimately acquainted with the recipient. And though Remus could never truly begrudge something that brought a smile to Dora's face, he had never seen that sort of look on her face caused by anything he'd done. He could never have that effect on her while he was coming and going in her life.

"How is Charlie?" he asked quietly.

Dora's head snapped up. "What?" she asked, false innocence and unwitting guilt in her voice.

"Charlie." Remus gestured to the letter. "Is he well?"

"He's just fine," she said. Her voice was a half-octave higher. "His studies at the dragon conservatory have been going well; he's met a couple of friends there and seems to be getting along with the other wizards." She folded the letter back up with care.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," he apologized.

She shook her head. "It's not you. He's just… he's very persistent."

"He's in love with you."

"I think he's more in love with the idea of us than me," said Dora.

"How do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair, almost unthinkingly distancing herself from him. "His parents got married young, and I expect he's got this idealized version of romance in his head where your first love is your only love, and I happened to be that for him."

"And he for you," Remus concluded.

"No, you were my first love," she corrected him. "I mean, _are_ my first love. Inasmuch as I can sort it all out in my head."

He frowned. "How do you mean?"

Dora shrugged. "I never _just_ fancied you. And I only ever fancied him."

"Have you told him that?"

"How could I? How could I tell him that?"

"It's honest, though I'll admit rather cruel." He leaned forward a little more. "Allowing him to believe he's still got a shot with you is crueler still."

Her lips pursed in upset. "You want me to hurt my best mate's feelings because you'd rather I was all yours?"

"That's not what I meant," he murmured. He leaned back and tried to think of the best way to explain. Finally he continued, "When I left you last year and I kissed you, how would you have felt if I'd only done so make you happy and through no feeling of my own? And if I never revealed that to you for a year and you allowed yourself to fall in love with me, believing I reciprocated your affections? What then?"

She sighed. "And now you've thoroughly depressed me."

Remus ran a hand through his hair, much like James would. Unlike James, though, it was from no conscious effort. "I don't mean to be hard on you," he said quietly. "I am a jealous creature, but I don't begrudge you your friendship. I just wish I wasn't so worried that I might lose you."

Dora leaned over and kissed him. "I'm not going anywhere," she assured him.

_No, but I am_, he thought darkly as she folded Charlie's letter.

**-  
5  
-**

"Congratulations," Remus said after a long while.

Dora raised her head from his chest and stared at him in dreamy confusion. "For what?"

Her body was as naked as his, and she was sprawled above him. He was trailing fingers all over her body, memorizing every dip and curve, every birthmark (and she had several) on her body. He'd never enjoyed the feel of another's skin so thoroughly, but with Dora he knew she could perfect her body's faults if she so desired. The fact that she didn't indicated that she was comfortable in her own form and with her own beauty, and he rejoiced in that.

"For what?" he repeated. "You just had your first orgasm."

A slow smile grew on her face. "I did? That's what that was?"

Remus nodded.

She laughed delightedly. "It was so… Merlin, it was brilliant!"

"I suppose being on top did the trick."

"Yeah… at first I felt a little odd," she confessed, "Because I was so, I dunno, exposed, but once I got it through my head that it was just you I had a lot more fun."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Just me?"

"You know what I mean," said Dora, slapping his chest playfully.

Remus swept her hand up and kissed every fingertip.

"Yes, I do know what you mean."

"So why is that?"

"Why is what?"

"Why do you think I only had an… had one when I was on top?" she asked persistently.

He smiled as he thought about this. "Well, you are a very assertive creature," he allowed. "Perhaps taking control feels good to you."

"Oh." Dora was quiet for a moment. "I would have thought, you know, that you would rather be on top, because…" he saw a faint blush grace her cheeks. Not as pronounced as her blushes once were, but still present. Remus almost missed the full flush she used to don at any mention of sexual behavior.

He waited for her to continue, but she didn't. "Because of what?"

"Er… because you're a… I mean, I just assumed because you mentioned how sex is all primal and animalistic and you've already got an animal as a part of you - it makes sense when you think about it," she defended herself, though he was still figuring out exactly what she was saying. "After all, you growl and do other… _things_ when you're having sex, or you are when you're with me and I just thought it was because you were a…"

"A werewolf?"

Dora hid her face in his chest.

He stared at her. "You… you thought I …wait, I _growl?_"

"Only a little."

"Why didn't you mention this to me before?"

"I sort of - I guess I like it." She peeked back up at him, the crimson blush back in full force.

Something occurred to him then, and Remus wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it.

"You like it."

"Yeah," she admitted.

"No," he said slowly, "You like that I'm a werewolf."

Her eyes got wide as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, confirming his suspicion.

"You do!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dora said evasively, and crawled off him.

Remus rolled over and pinned her down before she could escape the bed. He was careful to keep most of his weight off her as he lay above her, Dora's front pressed against the mattress. In many situations he would have considered this a sexual position but he was so thrown by the revelation of her interest it hardly occurred to him.

"Don't lie to me," he said sternly.

She whimpered with embarrassment. "Maybe just a little bit," she answered at last.

"Dora, you do know that I'm not like most werewolves," said Remus cautiously. "Many of my kind didn't grow up the way I did. I'm civilized, they aren't."

"I know that," snapped Dora. "And I'm not about to go out and find the first werewolf I can just to have sex. I like that about _you._"

He stared at her profile. "You might be the first person to say that to me."

She attempted a shrug.

"I'm asking you, though," he said, "To keep that to yourself."

"Oh, who would I tell," she retorted sullenly.

As if in answer to her question, there was a knock on the door.

Remus sat up, staring at her equally shocked face. For the first time since he'd arrived on her doorstep (for all intents and purposes) there was actually a visitor. This could be all sorts of bad. What if it was Andromeda? She would recognize him and probably hex him into oblivion. And if it was someone else it still wouldn't be any good because he, Remus at age twenty, wasn't supposed to be here in this time. The less people knew the better.

And what if it was Charlie Weasley, back from Romania? The ensuing fight would likely be awful and Dora would be so, so aggravated and upset and Remus couldn't bear the thought of making her upset. He was unsure of what to do.

The knock repeated, a little more loudly.

Dora scrambled out of the bed, jolted into action by the sound.

"Coming!" she called.

"You said that half an hour ago," Remus murmured, unable to resist the juvenile humor.

"Shut up!" hissed Dora. She threw a pillow at him while yanking on her shorts, not a very easy feat. "Get dressed!"

Remus felt his stomach sink but reached over to grab his discarded trousers.

She finished dressing first and tore through the flat to get the door.

"Lisbeth!" he heard her exclaim excitedly.

"Hi!"

"When did you get back from India?"

"Just last night," said Lisbeth. Remus remembered her vaguely as one of Dora's friends.

"It's so good to see you," Dora gushed with almost too much enthusiasm.

"You too! So what have you been up to?"

Remus finished buttoning his shirt and gave a deep sigh, readying himself to go out and face the newcomer. The first thing he noticed was that Lisbeth Saunders had sun-bleached blonde hair and very tan skin. She didn't look falsely beautiful, though. In fact, she was really very pretty and wearing a brilliant smile, which somewhat dimmed when she caught sight of him exiting the bedroom. Lisbeth looked from him to Dora and back again.

She frowned delicately. "I remember you," she said.

"Remus McGonagall," he told her dutifully, and extended a hand. She shook it.

"Right… you were there at the end of our sixth year," recalled Lisbeth.

"Yes, I was," he confirmed.

"And you're here."

He nodded. "Dora's putting me up while I'm in London."

"How… convenient."

Dora stepped between them with an overly cheery smile. "Would you like to go for a walk or something? Head to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Sure," said Lisbeth slowly. She didn't take her calculating eyes off him until Dora had all but thrown her out of the flat.

**-  
5  
-**

"Your friend doesn't like me much, does she?" Remus asked later that night.

He sat on the bed, watching Dora brush her teeth and wash her face in the bathroom. It surprised him that watching her do even the simplest things was fascinating to him. Dora spit out her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth.

"She doesn't know you."

"She doesn't like me," he interpreted.

Dora sighed. "Lisbeth's very protective of me, and she's known Charlie about as long as I have. You've got to understand that for her, me n' Charlie are sort of _the_ couple that you root for growing up because you think they'll be together forever and ever. 'Cept you came along in sixth year and everything got all mixed around, and now Charlie's in Romania and I'm here with you and she's just a bit upset that her whole worldview's been compromised."

Remus found this all very odd. "So she's mad at me because you don't want to be with Charlie?"

"That pretty much sums it up," she agreed. "I mean, the idea of you and I as a couple is sort of strange, and not just for her but for all my friends if they knew."

"Are we?"

"Are we what?"

"A couple?" he asked.

Dora stopped washing her face, her towel held still, her eyes wide and upset. "I assumed that once we slept together there was some sort of coupling happening."

"You misunderstand me," Remus said hastily. "This… whatever this is between us, it doesn't feel so trite as to put a label like 'couple' on it. Calling you my girlfriend seems incredibly childish. You matter to me more than the customary labels imply."

"Excellent save," she said, and resumed washing her face.

He pondered her for a moment. "I love you."

She smiled shyly. "You've told me that already."

"And I have to stop at one?" Remus chuckled. "Nymphadora Tonks, I love you. And I'm very sorry your friends don't approve of me."

"Bugger my friends," she said. Dora finished up in the bathroom and walked towards him.

She sat down next to him on the bed. "Bugger them," she repeated. "They don't know how wonderful you are to me. They don't know the first thing about you. They don't know that you love me as much as I love you. So unless they know more about you than I do, what they think doesn't matter."

Remus closed his eyes for a moment. "I won't be here forever," he told her sadly. "I'll be leaving again, in about a month."

"I don't care."

"I do."

"So what? You're going to moan about how much you don't want to go?" Dora said angrily. "Remus, you've got restless feet. Quite honestly I never expected to see you again, and I hope we'll meet up after this but I'm not holding my breath. I don't care that you're leaving. I care that you're here now."

He began to undress her, for the second time that day. "You're so bloody amazing," he murmured.

She set to work on the buttons of his shirt. "I know."

"I don't deserve you," Remus said. "You realize that, right?"

"Of course you don't," she said. "Now make love to me and stop being so dramatic."

He laughed and kissed his way from her neck to her stomach and lower, lower, until his mouth began to lick between her thighs and suck gently, and she was crying out for the pure pleasure of it all and twining her fingers in his hair, and he was reveling in the taste of her.

**-  
5  
-**

Although Dora had told him it didn't matter where he was in a month, Remus couldn't feel the same way no matter how hard he tried. He was sullen and upset, and it showed in the distracted motions of his day to day life. Mr Fletcher told him more than once he was being a tosser and the fact that he couldn't argue spoke volumes.

Dora started at the Auror Academy at the end of August, cutting her working hours to part time and significantly lessening their time together. He sat at home or went for walks, frustrated and annoyed by all the waiting. He was still a solitary man, but the last six weeks being with her had done what years with his mates couldn't dream to achieve. Perhaps he was happy to be on his own unless he knew there was something better out there for him.

He was happy, though. Comparatively he was much happier than most of his life had allowed him to be. Yet Remus felt the change from bliss to this waiting period he felt now.

And he didn't want Dora to give up her dream of becoming an Auror. Remus was just being selfish and he knew that, and he was ashamed of himself for it.

Even his third transformation of the time jump was worse than the ones before. Remus was so angry at his fate that he bit himself once or twice, even though he was fully himself at the time. His behavior smacked of a sulking child.

"Why are you so distant?" Dora asked him one night.

He hadn't thought himself to be distant while they were making love. "I'm not," he said.

"It feels like every day you're pulling further away from me," she told him.

Remus sighed and clambered out of bed to get a glass of water. When he returned, she was not sleeping the way he'd hoped for, or even pretending to sleep the way he'd prayed she would. Instead her arms were crossed and her face determined.

He paused in the corridor.

"Don't you dare avoid me," she snapped.

"I wasn't trying to," replied Remus.

"Bullshit."

"Truly, I wasn't. I'm just very confused right now."

"What's to be confused about?" Dora demanded hotly. "I'm sorry I've been busy, and I'm sorry you're leaving, but please stop tainting the time we have left!"

The bluntness she exuded was wonderful. It put him in his place, and rightly so.

"I'm sorry."

"You _should_ be," she sniffed.

"I am."

And he showed her how sorry he was. Not through carnal pleasures or kisses, but by wrapping her up in his arms and holding her until they both fell asleep.

**-  
5  
-**

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he told Dora.

She didn't turn around. "Oh."

"I don't want to," Remus insisted, "But it's something I sort of have to do. There's not much choice in the matter."

"I understand," she said.

He moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She relaxed back into him and sighed. For a long time he just held her like that, the simple contact enough to make him happy. The last time he left Dora, he was reluctant. Now Remus was pained by the thought of life without her. There was no way he could be with someone thirteen years younger than himself in the timeline without causing an uproar, let alone what he was.

And when would he even meet up with her, in this regular timeline? What possible reason would a thirty year old werewolf have for tracking down a beautiful young girl who'd only just turned of age? The future of their relationship was tenuous at best. He didn't want to think about it.

Remus pulled her marginally closer. "You've no idea how much I don't want to leave you."

"Then don't," she said, and her voice broke. "Don't do this to me again."

"I'm so sorry," was all he could offer in return.

"I don't want to go through this again," whispered Dora. "It was hard enough last time, but now… after everything…"

He kissed the top of her head. "There's something we need to do."

"What's that?"

"Turn around," he said, and she faced him with wet eyes.

Remus put his hands under her hips and lifted her so she sat on the kitchen counter. Dora gave a watery laugh as he began to peel away her clothing, leaving no inch of skin untouched by his lips. If there was nothing else he could remember but this moment when he returned back to his time, it would be enough.

He paused long enough to say, "It's about time we admit defeat to the kitchen," and they both laughed.

"It's fitting," she agreed.

"How so?"

"Everything started here."

"Not everything," he murmured, and she put her weight on her arms while he pulled away her shorts and knickers.

"Enough of everything," she replied.

He tugged off his shirt, unbuckled his trousers.

Dora sighed.

"I know," he answered her unspoken sentiment.

They marked the kitchen as their own, and it was the saddest sort of lovemaking because it said goodbye.

**-  
5  
-**

Remus finished packing his little makeshift bag and slung it onto his back. He checked the bathroom once more, and then bedroom, checking for the fifth time to see if he'd left anything behind. It was an excuse; he knew nothing was missing. He was just delaying his exit.

Packing a bag was probably pointless, but Remus had been transported to another time twice now and if it was to be a third he didn't fancy having only one set of everything and buying what he needed over time. He'd even packed away all the sickles left over from his time with Mr Fletcher - who'd informed him that if he came back to London a job was always waiting for him. At least now he could land on his own two feet.

Dora had left just as he woke that morning, running late for the Academy. She had given him a small kiss goodbye, but it was merely formality. The real goodbye had been the night before. Remus hated leaving, hated that he had responsibilities to return to.

He stared around the flat one last time before walking out and locking the door behind him with a wave of his wand.

The streets were quiet as he walked out of the building for very likely the last time. As he passed one small house Remus could hear the strains of Tourney's "Sunday in Hogsmeade" and thought back to that afternoon in The Buy and Sell. He had such little joy that day. Strange, because whenever he thought of the song now he could only think of how happy the last two months had made him, the brilliant summer days that made waking up as much of a pleasure as going to sleep.

"_You picked me up at the station and gave me a kiss_

_I grabbed your hand up because I felt like it_

_And then we entered the town in the soft morning light_

_And we went to the clearing in the woods on the right_…"

The song faded as he walked past.

Up ahead was an alley Remus where hoped to cast the time displacement spell without interruption. Perhaps "hoped" was a strong word.

Remus turned around for a moment and walked backwards to see the flat building slip out of sight around a corner. He raised a hand and waved for lack of something more significant to do. That tiny flat had seen the best part of his life to date. If walls could talk, what therapy would they need.

This last thought elicited a chuckle from him.

He stepped into the alley and drew his wand from his pocket.

For a long time, he stood there, waiting for his mouth to say the spell. He had to go back, there were mistakes he needed to correct. He had to do something about Sirius, he had to keep James and Lily from their deaths. In fact, he had to save many of the Order members from their impending deaths. The intel he needed to share, the people he had to save… motivation lessened as he thought of everything he'd be returning to.

And then came the argument contrary.

From what Dumbledore had said in 1990, Remus would return to his original state only a few hours after he'd vanished. This was an established fact. Therefore, it didn't matter how much time passed. It didn't matter if he stayed another three months in 1991. It didn't matter if he stayed another year, living in sin with Dora, because he'd return to his time exactly the way he was supposed to.

It was irresponsible, and foolish, and rash, and it was everything he wanted to do. Slowly, his determination tipped from one side of the proverbial scale to the other until Remus knew what he needed to do.

He pocketed his wand.

Remus wasn't going anywhere for a long time. He couldn't leave Dora, and even if he could he didn't want to. For twenty years he'd made decisions around the concept of _should_, but the concept of _want_ was rearing its head in retribution for being ignored so many times.

And why should he ignore what he wanted? Here and now was a woman who loved him for everything he was, good and bad, human and monster, and he was going to turn around and return to a time where nothing so beautiful as that could last? He'd be twice the fool if he did so.

He smiled and walked towards the entrance of the alley. Remus could surprise her on her return home. He imagined it already; she'd walk through the door and turn on the light, and he would be sitting there, waiting for her. She would run to him and he would sweep her up in an embrace, and -

The earth opened and he fell through.

**-  
5  
-**

_So, I realize this was a slightly longer wait than I'd promised, and I apologize. I know some of you thought I'd be going back to 1980 for this chapter, and to that I say gotcha. For any Brits out there, I'm sorry but I cannot bring myself in any seriousness to write the word "loo." I just can't. It's a bathroom. Call me obstinately American, but that's how it'll be with all my stories unless someone's referring to said "loo" in colloquial speech._

_I did not rip the lyrics off for that Tourney song. At least, I don't think I did. I wrote them (hence the shitty factor), they have their own tune, and Tourney isn't a real band. No disclaimer issues. Some disclaimer issue for _The Last Unicorn_ excerpt, so it's not mine, written by Peter S. Beagle, released 1968, published by Del Ray, yadda, yadda, yadda, not mine._

_Fingers crossed that the sex scenes were tasteful and realistic. I get very tired of sex scenes where everyone has multiple orgasms and know exactly what they're doing on the first try and there's _no dialogue_. Please, like everyone's telepathic once they take their clothes off. _

_EDIT: So, as of 7/7/12, there is a new section of this chapter. I found it recently and decided to dust it off and add it. Which also means that I've been digging around with this story and may, one day, finish the absymally long chapter three. Just to be clear, this story was never abandoned or hiatused, it just... takes a while to update._

_Please Review ^_^_


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